
flSS 



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I ■its 

PRESENTKI) liY 



A COMPLETE MANUAL 



OF 



ENGLISH LITERATURE, 



By THOMAS B. SHAW, M.A. 

1/ 



EDITED, WITH NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS, 
' By WILLIAM SMITH, LL. D., 

AUTHOR OF BIBLE AND CLASSICAL DICTIONARIES, 
AND CLASSICAL EXAMINER IN THE UNIVERSITY OF LONDON. 

WITH 

A Sketch of American Literature, 

By henry T. TUCKERMAN. 



NEW YORK: 
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iS68. 



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PREFACE 



The present work, which was originally published under 
the title of " Outlines of English Literature," has been entirely 
re-written with a special view to the requirements of Students, 
so as to make it, as far as space would allow, a complete 
History of English Literature. The Author devoted to its 
composition the labor of several years, sparing neither time 
nor pains to render it both instructive and interesting. In 
consequence of Mr. Shaw's lamented death the MS. was placed 
in my hands to prepare it for publication as one of Mr. Mur- 
ray's Student's Manuals, for which purpose it seems to me 
peculiarly well adapted. Through long familiarity with the 
subject, and great experience as a teacher, the Author knew 
how to seize the salient points in English literature, and to give 
prominence to those writers and those subjects which ought 
to occupy the main attention of the Student. Considering the 
size of the book, the amount of information which it conveys 
is really remarkable, while the space devoted to the more im- 
portant names, such as Bacon, Shakspeare, Milton, Dryden, 
Addison, Sir Walter Scott, and others, is sufficient to impress 
upon the Student a vivid idea of their lives and writings. The 
Author has certainly succeeded in his attempt " to render the 
work as little dry — as readable, in short — as is consistent 
with accuracy and comprehensiveness." 

As Editor, I have carefully revised the whole work, com- 
pleted the concluding chapters left unfinished by the Author, 

(3) 



4 PREFACE. 

and inserted at the end of the first and second chapters a brief 
account of Anglo-Saxon, Norman, and early English Litera- 
ture, in order to render the work as useful as possible to 
Students preparing for the examination of the India Civil 
Service, the University of London, and the like. Moreover I 
have, in the other Notes and Illustrations, given an account 
of the less important persons, w^hich, though not designed for 
continuous perusal, w^ill be useful for reference, for which pur- 
pose a copious Index has been added. All living writers are, 

for obvious reasons, excluded. 

W. S. 
London, January, 1864. 



SECOND EDITION. 

In this Edition a few errors in names and dates have been 
corrected, and considerable additions have been made to the 
later chapters of the work. A brief account of the lives and 
works of more than two hundred and twenty authors has been 
added ; and it is believed that the work, in its present form, 
will be found to contain information respecting every writer 
who deserves a place in the his|tory of our literature. 

w. s. 

London, January, 1865. » 



A BRIEF MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOR. 



Thomas Budd Shaw, born in Gower Street, London, on the 12th of 
October, 1813, was the seventh son of John Shaw, F. R. S., an eminent 
architect. From a very early period of his life, though of delicate 
constitution, he manifested that delight in the acquisition of knowledge 
which was continued throughout his subsequent career. In the year 
1822 he accompanied his maternal uncle, the Rev. Francis Whitfield, to 
Berbice in the West Indies, where that gentleman was the officiating 
clergyman, and who was eminently qualified as a scholar and an 
accomplished gentleman to advance his nephew in his studies and in 
the formation of his character. On his return from the West Indies, 
in 1827, he entered the Free School at Shrewsbury, where he became 
a favorite pupil of Dr. Butler, afterwards Bishop of Lichfield. Here 
the writer of this brief record recoHects that it was remarked of the 
subject of it that, although inferior to some of his contemporaries in the 
critical exactness of his scholarship, he was surpassed by none in the 
intuitive power with which he comprehended the genius and spirit of 
the great writers of antiquity. At this early period also, apart from 
school exercises, he rapidly accumulated that general and varied knowl- 
edge of books and things which when acquired seemed never to be 
forgotten. 

From Shrewsbury, in 1833, Mr. Shaw proceeded to St. John's CoIt 
lege, Cambridge. On taking his degree, in 1836, he became tutor in 
the family of an eminent merchant; and subsequently, in 1840, he 
was induced to leave England for Russia, where he commenced his 
useful and honorable career, finally settling in St. Petersburgh in the 
year 1841. Here he formed an intimacy with M. Warrand, Professor 
at the University of St. Petersburgh, through whose influence, in 1842, 
he obtained the appointment of Professor of English Literature at the 
Imperial Alexander Lyceum. His lectures were eagerly attended : no 
professor acquired more thoroughly the love and respect of his pupils, 
many of whom continued his warmest admirers and friends in after 
life. In October in the same year he married Miss Annette Warrand, 
daughter of the Professor. 

In 1851 he came to England for the purpose of taking his Master of 

Arts degree; and on his return to Russia was elected Lector of English 

Literature at the University of St. Petersburgh. His first pupils were 

the Princes of Leuchtenburg ; and, his reputation being now thoroughly 

1 * (.0 



6 A BRIEF MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOR. 

established, he was in 1853 engaged as tutor and Professor o) itnglish 
to the Grand Dukes, an appointment which he retained till his death. 

For nine years Mr. Shaw's position was in every respect v.nviable : 
haopy in his married life, loved by his pupils, respected and honored 
by all for his high attainments and many virtues, his life passed in 
peace and prosperity. A few years more, and his means would have 
enabled him to retire and pass the evening of his life in literary pur- 
suits. But this was not to be. In October, 1862, he complained of 
pain in the region of the heart; yet he struggled hard against his 
malady, until nature could bear no more. For a few days before his 
death he suffered acutely, but bore his sufferings with manly fortitude. 
On the 14th of November he was relieved from them, dying suddenly 
of aneurism. His death was regarded as a public loss, and his funeral 
was attended by their Imperial Highnesses, and a large concourse of 
present and former students of the Lj^ceum. A subscription was raised, 
and a monument is erected to his memory. 

The following is a list of such of Mr. Shaw's works as have come to 
our notice. 

In 1836 he wrote several pieces for "The Fellow," and " Fraser's 
Magazine." In 1837 he translated into verse numerous German and 
Latin poems, and wrote a few original poems of merit, some of which 
appeai-ed in " The Individual." Two well-written pieces, " The Song 
of Hrolfkraken the Sea King," and "The Surgeon's Song," were con- 
tributions to " Fraser's Magazine." In 1838 and two following years he 
contributed several translations from the Italian to " Fraser." In 1842 
he started "The St. Petersburgh Literary Review; " he also published 
in " Blackwood " a translation of " Anmalet Bek," a Russian novel, by 
Marlinski. In 1844 he published his first work of considerable length, 
a translation of "The Heretic," a novel in three volumes, by Lajetch- 
nikoff". The work was well received, and an edition was immediately 
reprinted in New York. In the following year appeared in " Black- 
wood " his " Life of Poushkin," accompanied by exquisite translations 
of several of the finest of that poet's productions. In 1846 his leisure 
time was entirely occupied in writing his " Outlines of English Litera- 
ture," a work expressly undertaken at the request of the authorities of 
the Lyceum, and for the use of the pupils of that establishment. The 
edition was speedily sold, and immediately reprinted in Philadelphia. 
A second edition was published by Mr. Murray in 1849; ^"^ ^he edition 
now offered to the public is the fruit of his later years and mature 
judgment. It may, indeed, be said to be an entirely new work, as the 
whole has been re-written. In 1850 he published in the " Qiiarter- 
ly" an exceedingly original and curious article, entitled "Forms of 
Salutation." 



CONTENTS. 



Faob 
A Brief Memoir of the Author •••..• 5 

CHAPTER I. 

Origin of the English Language and Literature .... 11 

Notes and Illustrations: — 

A. Anglo-Saxon Literature . ^ . . . . 26 

B. Anglo-Norman Literature 28 

C. Semi-Saxon Literature 32 

D. Old English Literature 33 

CHAPTER II. 
The Age of Chaucer 35 

Notes and Illustrations: — 

A. The Predecessors of Gower, and Chaucer 53 

B. John Gower 55 

C. Wicliffe and his School -57 

CHAPTER III. 

From the Death op Chaucer to the Age of Elizabeth. . 59 

Notes and Illustrations: — 

A. Minor Poets 69 

B. Minor Prose Writers 70 

CHAPTER IV. 

The Elizabethan Poets (including the Reign of James I.). 71 

Notes and Illustrations: — 

A. The Mirrour for Magistrates 84 

B. Minor Poets in the Reigns of Elizabeth and James I. . . 84 

(7) 



8 CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER V. 

The New Philosophy and Prose Literature in the Reigns 

OF Elizabeth and James 1 88 

Notes and Illustrations : — 

Minor Prose Writers in the Reigns of Elizabeth and James I. 107 

CHAPTER VI. 
The Dawn of the Drama 108 

CHAPTER VII. 
Shakspeare 128 

CHAPTER VIII. 

The Shakspearian Dramatists 152 

Notes and Illustrations: — 
Other Dramatists . 166 

CHAPTER IX. 

The so-called Metaphysical Poets 167 

Notes and Illustrations : — 
Other Poets 176 

CHAPTER X. 

THfioLOGiCAL Writers of the Civil War and the Common- 
wealth 177 

Notes and Illustrations: — 

Other Theological and Moral Writers 186 

CHAPTER XI. 
John Milton ', , 187 

Notes and Illustrations: — 
Contemporaries of Milton. 205 

CHAPTER XII. 

The Age of the Restoration 207 

Notes and Illustrations : — 
Other Writers 231 



CONTENTS. 9 

CHAPTER XIII. 
The New Drama and the Correct Poets 232 

CHAPTER XIV. 
The Second Revolution 249 

Notes and Illustrations: — 

A. Other Theological Writers 263 

B. Other Prose Writers 264 

CHAPTER XV. 
Pope, Swift, and the Augustan Poets 265 

Notes and Illustrations: — 
Minor Poets 288 

CHAPTER XVI. 
The Essayists 289 

Notes and Illustrations: — 

A. Minor Essayists, &c 302 j 

B. Boyle and Bentley Controversy 302 \ 

Other Writers 304 ' 

CHAPTER XVII. 

The Great Novelists 305 

Notes and Illustrations: — \ 

Other Novelists 325 

CHAPTER XVIII. 

Historical, Moral, Political, and Theological Writers 

OF the Eighteenth Century 326 \ 

\ 
Notes and Illustrations : — } 

Theological Writers 345 ^ 

Philosophical Writers 346 | 

Historians and Scholars 347 | 

Miscellaneous Writers 348 \ 

Novelists 349 I 



10 CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER XIX. 
The Dawn of Romantic Poetry 350 

Notes and Illustrations : — 
Other Poets of the Eighteenth Century 372 

CHAPTER XX. 
Walter Scott 375 

CHAPTER XXI. 

Byron, Moore, Shelley, Keats, Campbell, Leigh Hunt, and 

Walter Savage Landor 396 

CHAPTER XXII. 
Wordsworth, Coleridge, and Southey 420 

Notes and Illustrations: — 

Other Poets of the Nineteenth Century 432 

More Modern Poets 434 

CHAPTER XXIII. 
The Modern Novelists 436 

Notes and Illustrations : — 
Other Novelists 458 

CHAPTER XXIV. 

Prose Literature op the Nineteenth Century 459 

Notes and Illustrations : — 
Other Prose Writers of the Nineteenth Century 474 



SKETCH OF AMERICAN LITERATURE 477 



Index to English Literature 533 

Index to American Literature 53S 



EISTGLISH LITERATURE. 



CHAPTER I. 
ORIGIN OF THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE AND LITERATURE. 

§ 1. The most ancient inhabitants of the British Isles. § 2. The Roman 
occupation. § 3. Traces of the Celtic and Latin periods in the English lan- 
guage. § 4. Teutonic settlements in Britain. § 5. Anglo-Saxon language and 
literature. § 6. Effects of the Norman conquest upon the English population 
and language. § 7. Romance Literature, Norman Trouveres and Proven9al 
Troubadoui's. § 8. Change of Anglo-Saxon into English. § 9. Principal 
epochs of the English language. 

§ 1. Within the limited territory comprised by a portion of the 
British Isles has grown up a language which has become the speech of 
the most free, the most energetic, and the most powerful portion of the 
human race ; and which seems destined to be, at no distant period, the 
universal medium of communication throughout the globe. It is a 
language, the literature of which, inferior to none in variety or extent, 
is superior to all others in manliness of spirit, and in universality of 
scope ; and it has exerted a great and a continually increasing influence 
upon the progress of human thought, and the improvement of human 
happiness. To trace the rise and formation of such a language cannot 
be otherwise than interesting and instructive. 

The most ancient inhabitants of the British Islands, concerning 
whom history has handed down to us any certain information, were a 
branch of that Celtic race which appears to have once occupied a large 
portion of Western Europe. Though the causes and period of their 
immigration into Europe are lost in the clouds of pre-historical tradi- 
tion, this people, under the various appellations of Celts, Gael (Gaul) 
or Cymry (Cimbrians), seems to have covered a very large extent of 
territory, and to have retained strong traces, in its Druidical worship, 
its astronomical science, and many other features, of a remote Oriental 
descent. It is far from probable, however, that this race ever attained 
more than the lowest degree of civilization : the earliest records of it 
which we possess, at the time when it came in contact with the Roman 
arms, show it to have been then in a condition very little superior to 
barbarism — a fact sufficiently indicated by its nomad and predatory 
mode of existence, by the abr.ence of agriculture, and above all by the 

m 



12 ORIGIN OF THE ENGLISH [Chap. I. 

universal practice of that infallible sign of a savage state, the habit of 
tattooing and staining the body. Whether the Phoenicians ever ex- 
tended their navigation to the British Islands must remain doubtful ; 
but their intercourse with the natives must in any case have been 
confined to the southern coast of the island ; and there is no ground 
for supposing that the influence of the more polished strangers could 
have produced any change in the great body of the Celtic population. 

§ 2. The first .important inteixourse between the primitive Britons 
and any foreign nation was the invasion of the country by the Romans 
in the year 55 B. C. Julius Caesar, having subdued the territory occu- 
pied by the Gauls, a cognate tribe, speaking the same language and 
characterized by the same customs, religion, and political institutions, 
found himself on the shores of the Channel, within sight of the white 
cliffs of Albion, and naturally desired to push his conquests into the 
region inhabited by a people whom the Romans considered as dwelling 
at the very extremity of the earth : "penitus toto divisos orbe Britannos." 
The resistance of the Britons, though obstinate and ferocious, was grad- 
ually overpowered in the first century of the Christian era by the 
superior skill and military organization of the Roman armies : the 
country became a Roman province ; and the Roman domination, though 
extending only to the central and southern portion of the country, that 
is, to England proper, exclusive of Wales, the mountainous portion of 
Scotland, and the whole of Ireland, may be regarded as having sub- 
sisted about 480 years. A large body of Roman troops was permanently 
stationed in the new province; a great military road, defended by 
strongly fortified posts, extended from the southern coast at least as far 
as York; and the invaders, as was their custom, endeavored to intro- 
duce among their barbarous subjects their laws, their habits, and their 
civilization. In the course of this long occupation by the Roman 
power, the native population became naturally divided into two distinct 
and hostile classes. Such of the Celts as submitted to the yoke of their 
invaders acquired a considerable degree of civilization, learned the Latin 
language, and became a Latinized or provincial race, similar to the 
inhabitants on the other side of the Channel. The other portion of the 
Celts, namely, those who inhabited mountainous regions inaccessible 
to the Roman arms, and those who, refusing to submit to the invaders, 
Hed from the southern districts to take refuge in their rugged fastnesses, 
retained, we may be sure, with their hostility to the invaders, their own 
language, dress, customs, and religion ; and it was these who, periodi- 
cally descending from the mountains of Wales and Scotland, carried 
devastation over the more civilized province, and taxed the skill and 
vigilance of the Roman ti'oops. It was to restrain the incursions of 
these savages that a strong wall was constructed in the reign of Severus 
across the narrowest portion of the island, from the River Tyne to the 
Solway Frith. When the Roman troops were at length withdrawn 
from Britain, in order to defend Italy itself against the innumerable 
hordes of barbarians which menaced it, Ave can easily comprehend the 
desperate position in which the Romanized portion of the population 



A.D. 446.] LANGUAGE AND LITERATURE. 13 

now found itself. Having in all probability lost, during their long 
subjection, the valor which originally distinguished them; having 
acquired the vices of servitude without the union which civilization 
can give, they found themselves exposed to the furious incursions of 
hungry barbarians, eager to reconquer what they considered as their 
birthright; and who, intense as was their hatred of the victorious 
Romans, must have looked with a still fiercer enmity on their degen- 
erate countrymen, as traitors and cowards who had basely submitted 
to a foreign yoke. Down from their mountains rushed the avenging 
swarms of Scottish and Pictish savages, and commenced taking a 
terrible vengeance on their unhappy countrymen. Every trace of 
civilization was swept away; the furious devastation which they 
carried through the land is commemorated in the ancient songs and 
legends of the Cymry; and the objects of their vengeance, after vainly 
imploring the assistance of Rome in a most piteous appeal, had 
recourse to the only resource now left them, of hiring some warlike 
race of foreign adventurers to protect them. These adventurers were 
the Saxon pirates. 

§ 3. Before approaching the second act in the great drama of English 
history, it will be well to clear the ground by making a few remarks 
upon the traces left by the Celtic period in the language of the country. 
It must first of all be distinctly remembered that the Celtic dialect, 
whether in the form still spoken in Wales, which is supposed to be the 
most similar to the language of the ancient Britons, or in that em- 
ployed in the Highlands of Scotland and among the Celtic population 
of Ireland, has only a very remote afiinity to modern English. It is in 
all respects a completely different tongue ; and so completely insignifi- 
cant has been its influence on the present language that, in a vocabu- 
lary consisting of about 40,000 words, it would be difficult to point out 
a hundred derived directly from the Celtic* 

It is true that the English language contains a considerable number 
of words ultimately traceable to Celtic roots; but these have been intro- 
duced into it through the medium of the French, which, together with 
an enormous majority of Latin words, contains some of Gaulish origin. 
The same remark may be made respecting the prominent Latin element 
in the English language. The Latin words, which constitute three- 
fifths of our language, cannot in any instance be proved to have derived 
their origin from any corrupt Latin dialect spoken in Britain, but to 
have been filtered, so to speak, through some of the various forms of 
the great Romance speech from which French, Italian, and Spanish 
are derived. One class of words, however, is traceable to the Brito- 
Roman period of our history; and this is ineffaceably stamped upon 
the geographj- of the British Isles. In Wales, in the Highlands of 
Scotland, and in Ireland, where the population is pure and unmixed, 
the names of places have probably remained unaltered from a very 

* On the Celic element in the English language, fee " The Student's Manual 
of the English Language," p. 28, seq., and p. 45. 
2 



14 ORIGIN OF THE ENGLISH [Chap. I. 

remote period, perhaps long anterior to the invasion of Julius Csesar; 
and even in those parts of the country which have been successively 
occupied by very different races, many appellations of pure Celtic 
antiquity have survived the inundations of new peoples, and may still 
be marked, like some venerable Druidical cromlech^ standing in hoar 
mysterious age in the midst of a more recent civilization. Thus the 
termination " don " is in some instances the Celtic word " dun" a rock 
or natural fortress. Again, the termination " caster"" or *' Chester" is 
unquestionably a monument of the Roman occupation of the island, 
indicating the spot of a Roman ^^ castrum " or fortified post.* 

§ 4. The true foundations of the English laws, language, and 
national character were laid, between the middle of the fifth and the 
middle of the six centuries, deep in the solid granite of Teutonic an- 
tiquity. The piratical adventurers whom the old German passion for 
plunder and glory, and also, perhaps, the entreaties of the " miserable 
Britons," allured across the North Sea from the bleak shores of their 
native Jutland, Schleswig, Holstein, and the coasts of the Baltic, were 
the most fearless navigators and the most redoubted sea-kings of those 
ages. On their arrival in Britain, concerning which the early chron- 
icles are filled with vague and picturesque legends, like that of Hengist 
and Horsa, these rovers were in every respect savages, though their 
rugged energetic Teuton nature, so admirably sketched by Tacitus at 
a preceding period, offered a rich and fertile soil capable of being 
developed by Christianity and civilization into a noble type of national 
character. Successive bands of the same race, attracted by the reports 
of their predecessors respecting the superiority of the new settlement 
over their own barren and perhaps over-peopled father-land, gradually 
established themselves in those parts of Britain which the Romans 
had occupied before them. But the same causes which prevented the 
Romans from penetrating into the mountainous districts of Wales and 
Scotland, continued to exclude the Saxons also from those inaccessible 
fastnesses. Gradually, and after sanguinary conflicts, they succeeded, 
as the armies of Rome had done before, in driving back into these 
regions the wild Celtic populations which had descended thence with 
the hope of reconquering their inheritance; and this historical fact 
receives confirmation from the circumstance that the present inhab- 
itants of these mountain regions are in the present day of pure Celtic 
blood, retaining the language of their British ancestors, and forming 
a race as completely distinct from the English people properly so 
called, as the Finn or the Lett, for example, from the Slavonic occupier 
of the land of his forefathers. The level, and consequently more easily 
accessible, portion of Scotland was gradually peopled by the Anglo- 
Saxon race ; and their language and institutions were established there 
as completely as in South Britain itself. This fact alone ought to be 

* In the same way some other Latin words appear in other names of places ; 
as strata, " paved roads," in Strat-Jbrd, Stret-ton; colonia, in Lin-coln ; port-ua^ 
in Ports-mouth, &c. 



A. D. 450-550.] LANGUAGE AND LITERATURE, 15 

sufficient to destroy the prejudice, so common not only among foreign- 
ers, but even among Englishmen, of regarding all the inhabitants of 
Scotland as Celts alike ; of representing William Wallace, for instance, 
in a Highland kilt — a mistake as ludicrous as would be that of painting 
Washington armed with a tomahawk, or adorned, like a Cherokee 
chief, with a belt of scalps or a girdle of wampum. It is probable that 
even the half-Romanized Britons who first invited the Saxon tribes to 
come to their assistance were speedily involved by their dangerous allies 
in the same persecution as their savage mountain countrymen : at all 
events one fact is certain, that the Celt in general, whether friendly or 
hostile, possessing a less powerful organization and a less vigorous 
moral constitution than the Teuton, was in the course of time either 
quietly absorbed into the more energetic race, or gradually disappeai-ed, 
with that fatal certainty which seems to be an inevitable law regulating 
the contact of two unequal nationalities, just as the aboriginal Indian 
has disappeared before the descendants of the very same Anglo-Saxons 
in the New World. It is only a peculiar combination of geographical 
conditions that has enabled the primeval Celt to retain a separate exist- 
ence on the territory of Great Britain, while the predominance — a 
numerical predominance only-^ of the Celtic race in the population of 
Ireland may be traced to other, but no less exceptional causes. 

§ 6. The true parentage, therefore, of the English nation, is to be 
traced to the Teutonic race. The language spoken by the Northern 
invaders was a Low-Germanic dialect, akin to the modern Dutch, but 
with many Scandinavian forms and words. Like the people who spoke 
it, it was possessed of a character at once practical and imaginative; 
at onc^real and ideal; and required but the influence of civilization to 
become a noble vehicle for reasoning, for eloquence, and for the expres- 
sion of the social and domestic feelings. In the modern English, all 
ideas which address themselves to the emotions, and all those which 
bring man into relation with the great objects of nature and with the 
sentiments of simple existence, will be invariably found to derive their 
linguistic representatives directly from the Teutonic tongue. The con- 
version of the Anglo-Saxons to Christianity, which took place in the 
aixth century, brought them into contact with more intellectual forms 
of life, and with a higher type of civilization : the transfer of their 
religious allegiance from Thor, Woden, Tuisk, and Freya to the Sa- 
viour, while it softened their manners, exposed their language to the 
modifying influences of the corrupt but more civilized Latin literature 
of the Lower Empire, and gave rapid proof how improvable a tongue 
was that in which they had hitherto produced nothing, probably, but 
rude war-songs and sagas like that of Beowulf. A very varied and 
extensive literature §oon arose among the Anglo-Saxons, embracing 
compositions on almost every branch of knowledge, law, historical 
chronicles, ecclesiastical and theological disquisitions, together with a 
large bod}'^ of poetry in which their very peculiar metrical system was 
adapted to subjects derived either from the Scriptures, or from the 
mediseval lives of the saints. The curious, but rather tedious, versified 



16 ORIOm OF THE ENGLISH [Chap. I. 

paraphrase of the Bible by Cffidmon — generally attributed to the 
middle of the seventh century — was long considered to be one of the 
most ancient among the more considerable Saxon poems ; but the 
discovery, at Copenhagen, of the Lay of BeoTvulf to which we have 
just alluded, has furnished us with a specimen of Anglo-Saxon poetry 
decidedly more ancient, as well as far more interesting; inasmuch as, 
having been composed in all probability at a period anterior to the 
general conversion of the race to Christianity, it is free from any traces 
of that imitation of the rhetorical style of the lower Latinity which 
prevents Caedmon from being a good representative of the national 
literature of his race. This poem, the picturesque vigor of which 
gives it a right to be placed among the most interesting monuments of 
early literature, is not inferior in energy and conciseness to the Nibe- 
Iu7ige7i-Lied, though undeniably so in extent of plot and development 
of character. The subject is the expedition of Prince Beowulf, a lineal 
descendant of Woden, from England to Norway, on the adventure of 
delivering the king of the latter country from a kind of demon or mon- 
ster which secretly enters the royal hall at midnight, and destroys some 
of the warriors who are sleeping there. This monster, called in the 
poem the Grendel, is probably nothing but the poetical personification 
of some dangerous exhalations from a marsh, for it is represented as 
issuing from a neighboring swamp, and as taking a refuge in the same 
abode, when, after a furious combat, Beowulf succeeds in driving it 
back, together with another evil spirit, into the glcpmy abj'ss. The 
description of the voj^age of Beowulf in his " foamy-necked " ship 
along the " swan-path " of the ocean, of his arrival at the Nonvegian 
court, and his narrative of his own exploits, are in a very similar style 
to the ancient Scandinavian Sagas. The versification of this, as well 
as of all Saxon pqetry in general, is exceedingly^ peculiar ; and the sjs- 
tem vipon which it is constructed for a long time defied the ingenuity 
of philologists. The Anglo-Saxons based their verse not upon any 
regular recurrence of syllables, accented and unaccented, or regarded, 
as among the Greeks and Romans, as long or short; still less upon the 
employmentof similarly sounding terminations of lines or parts oi lines, 
that is, upon what we call rhyme. With them it was sufficient to con- 
stitute verse, that in any two successive lines — which might be of any 
length — there should be at least three words hegi)ining with the same 
letter. This very peculiar metrical system is called alliteratioit.'^ 

The language in which these works are composed is usually called 
A7iglo- Saxon ; but in the works themselves it is alwajs styled English^ 
and the country England^ or the land of the Angles. The term Anglo- 
Saxon^ is meant to distinguish the Saxons of England from the Saxons 
of the Continent, and does not signify the Angles and Saxons. But 
why English became the exclusive appellation of the language spoken 
by the Saxons as well as the Angles, is not altogether clear, it has 

* For a fuller account of Anglo-Saxon literature, see Notes and Illustration^ 
(A). 



A. D. 450-5SO-] LANGUAGE AND LITERATURE. ,17 

been supposed bj some writers that the Saxons were only a section of 
the Angles, and consequently that the latter name was always recog- 
nized among the Angles and Saxons as the proper national appellation. 
Another hypothesis is, that, as the new inhabitants of the island 
became first known to the Roman see through the Anglian captives 
who were carried to Rome in the sixth century, the name of this tribe 
was given by the Romans to the whole people, and that the Christian 
missionaries to Britain would naturally continue^ to employ this name 
as the appellation both of the people and the country.* Some modern 
writers have proposed to discard the term Anglo-Saxon altogether, and 
employ English as the name of the language, from the earliest date to 
the present da_y. But, as has been already observed in a previous work 
of the present series, " a change of nomenclature like this v/ould 
expose us to the inconvenience, not merely of embracing within one 
designation objects which have been conventionally separated, but of 
confounding things logically distinct : for, though our modern English 
is built upon and mainly derived from the Anglo-Saxon, the two dia- 
lects are now so discrepant, that the fullest knowledge of one would not 
alone suffice to render the other intelligible to either the eye or the 
ear." For all practical purposes, they are two separate languages, as 
different from one another as the Italian from the Latin, or the present 
English from the German. 

For a long period the Saxon colonization of Britain was carried on 
by detached Teutonic tribes, who established themselves in such por- 
tions of territory as they found vacant, or from which they ousted less 
warlike occupants ; and in this way there gradually arose a number of 
separate and independent states or kingdoms. This epoch of our 
history is generaMy denominated the Heptarchy, or Seven Kingdoms, 
the names of the principal of which may still be traced in the appella- 
tions of our modern shires, as Essex and Northumberland. As might 
easily have been foreseen, one of these tribes or kingdoms, growing 
gradually more powerful, at last absorbed the others. This important 
event took place in the ninth century, in the reign of Egbert, from 
which period to the middle of the eleventh century, when there occurred 
the third great invasion and change of sovereignty to which the ccrun- 
try was destined, the history of the Anglo-Saxon monarchy presents a 
confused and melancholy picture of bloody incursions and fierce resist- 
ance to the barbarous and pagan Danes, who endeavored to treat the 
Saxons as the Saxons had treated the Celts. The only brilliant figure 
in this period is the almost perfect type of a patriot warrior, king, and 
philosopher, in the person of the illustrious Alfred; whose virtues 

* For further particulars see the " Student's Manual of the English Lan- 
guage," pp. 14, 15. It is there shown that the common account of the imposi- 
tion of the name of England upon the country by a decree of King Egbert, is 
unsupported by any contemporaneous or credible testimony ; and that the title 
of Anglice or Anglorum Rex, is much more naturally explained by the supposi- 
tion that Eiiglajid and English had been already adopted as the coUective namea 
of the country and its inhabitants. 
3* 



18 ORIGIN OF THE ENGLISH [Chap. I. 

would appear to posterity almost fabulous, were they not handed down 
in the minute and accurate records of a biographer who knew and 
served him well. The two fierce races, so obstinately contending for 
mastery, were too nearly allied in origin and blood for their amalgama- 
tion to have produced any very material change in the language or 
institutions of the country. In those parts of England, principally in 
the North and East, as in some of the maritime regions of Scotland, 
where colonies of Danes established themselves, either by conquest or 
by settlement, the curious philologist may trace, in the idiom of the 
peasantry and still more clearly in the names of families and places, 
evident marks of a Scandinavian instead of an Anglo-Saxon popula- 
tion. As examples of this we may cite the now immortal name of 
Havelocli, derived from a famous sea-king of the same name, who is 
said to have founded the ancient town of Whitby, the latter being the 
Scandinavian Hvitby. As to memorials of the Saxons, preserved in the 
names of men, families, or places, or in the less imperishable monu- 
ments of architecture, they are so numerous that there is hardly a 
locality in the whole extent of England where a majority of the names 
is not pure and unaltered Saxon; the whole mass of the middle and 
lower classes of the population bears unmistakable marks of pure 
Saxon blood : and the sound and sterling vigor of the popular lan- 
guage is so essentially Saxon, that it requires but the re-establishment 
of the now obsolete inflections of the Anglian grammar, and the 
substitution of a few Teutonic words for their French equivalents, 
to recompose an English book into the idiom spoken in the days of 
Alfred. 

§ 6. It would be, however, an error to suppose that all the words of 
Latin origin found even in the earlier period of the English language 
were introduced after the introduction into England of the Norman- 
French element; that is to say, after the conquest of the country by 
William in the eleventh century. For a long time previous tc that 
event the cultivation of the Latin literature in the monasteries and 
among the learned, as well as the employment of the Latin language 
in the services of the Church, must have tended to incorporate with 
the Saxon tongue a considerable number of Latin words. Alfred, we 
know, visited Rome in his youth, acquired there a considerable portion 
of the learning which he unquestionably possessed, and exhibited his 
patriotic care for the enlightenment of his countrymen by translating 
into Saxon the " Consolations " of Boethius. The Venerable Bede, 
and other Saxon ecclesiastics, composed chronicles and legends in Latin, 
and we may therefore conclude that, though the sturdy Teutonic na- 
tionality of the Anglo-Saxon language guarded it from being corrupted 
by any overwhelming admixture of Latin, yet a considerable influx of 
Latin words maj' have become perceptible in it before the appearance 
of Normans on our shores. It is also to be remarked that the superior 
civilization of the French race must have exerted an influence on at 
least the aristocratic classes ; and the family connections between the 
last Saxon dynasty and the neighboring dukes of Normandy, of which 



A.D. io66.] LANGUAGE AND LITERATURE. 19 

the reign of Edward the Confessor furnishes examples, must have 
tended to increase the Gallicizing character perceptible in Anglo-Saxon 
writings previous to the Conquest. In tracing the influence of that 
mighty revolution on the language, the institutions, and the national 
character of the people, it will be advisable to advert separately to its 
effects as regarded from a political, a social, and a philological point 
of view. 

The most important change consequent upon the subjugation of tlie 
country by the Normans was obviously the establishment in England 
of the great feudal principle of the military tenure of land, of the 
chivalric spirit and habits which were the natural result of feudal insti- 
tutions, and lastly, of the broad demarcation which separated society 
into the two great classes of the Nobles and the Serfs. It is unnecessary 
to say that the feudal institutions, which lay at the bottom of all these 
modifications, were totally unknown to the original Saxons who 
established themselves in England, and were indeed utterly repugnant 
to that free democratic organization of society which they brought 
with them from their native Germany, and which Tacitus shows to 
have universally prevailed among the primitive dwellers of the Teu- 
tonic swamps and forests. The Scandinavian pirates, who carried 
devastation over every coast accessible to their " sea-horses," and who, 
under the valiant leadership of Hrolf the Ganger, wrested from the 
feeble and degenerate successors of Charlemagne the magnificent 
province to which they gave their own North-man appellation, adopted, 
from the force of circumstances, that strong military organization 
which could alone enable a warlike minority to hold in subjection a 
more numerous but less vigorous conquered people. Like the Lom- 
bards in Italy, like a multitude of other races in different parts of the 
world and in different historical epochs, they found feudal institutions 
an indispensable necessity of their position ; and what had been forced 
upon them at their original occupation of Normandy they naturally 
practised on their irruption into England. But as the invasion of 
William was carried'^on under at least a colorable allegation of a legal 
right to the inheritance of the English throne, his investiture of the 
crown was accompanied by a studied adherence to the constitutional 
forms of the Saxon monarchy; and it was perhaps only the obstinate 
resistance of the sullen, sturdy Saxon people, that at length wearied 
him into treating his new acquisition with all the rigor of a conquering 
invader. The whole territory was by his orders carefully surveyed and 
registered in that curious monument of antiquity, which still exists, 
entitled Domesday Book : the severest measures of police, as for exam- 
ple the famous institution of the Curfew (which was, however, no new 
invention of William to tyrannize over the enslaved country, but a very 
common regulation in feudal states), were introduced to keep down the 
rising of the people ; the territory was divided into 60,000 fiefs ; the 
original Saxon holders of these lands were as a general rule ousted 
from their estates, which were distributed, on the feudal conditions of 
homage and general defence, to the warriors who had enabled him to 



20 ORIGIN OF THE ENGLISH [Chap. I. 

subjugate the country; vast tracts of inhabited lands were depopulated 
and transformed into forests for the chase, and the higher functions of 
the Church and State were with few exceptions confided to men of 
Norman blood. The natural consequence of such a state of things, 
when it continued, as it did in England, through the reigns of the long 
series of Norman and Plantagenet sovereigns, was to create in the 
country two distinct and intensely hostile nationalities. The Saxon 
race gradually descended to the level of an oppressed and servile class ; 
but being far superior in numbers to their oppressors, they ran no risk 
of being absorbed and lost in the dominant people. The high qualities, 
too, of the Norman race, qualities which made them greatly superior 
in valor, wisdom, and intellectual activity, to any other people then 
existing on the continent of Europe, no less saved them from gradually 
disappearing in the subjugated population. It required several ages to 
amalgamate the two nationalities ; but, partly in consequence of their 
high, though very different merits, and partly in consequence of a most 
peculiar and happy combination of circumstances, they were ultimately 
amalgamated, and formed the most vigorous people which has ever 
existed upon earth. In the present case the two nationalities were not 
dissolved in each other, but like some chemical bodies their affinities 
combined to form a new and powerful substance. But for several cen- 
turies the two fierce and obstinate races felt nothing but hatred towards 
each other, a hatred cherished by the memory of a thousand acts of 
tyranny and contempt on the one part, and savage revenge and sullen 
degradation on the other. Macaulay has well observed that, " so 
strong an association is established in most minds between the great- 
ness of a sovereign and the greatness of the nation which he rules, 
that almost every historian of England has expatiated with a senti- 
ment of exultation on the power and splendor of her foreign masters, 
and has lamented the decay of that power and splendor as a calamity 
to our country. This is, in truth, as absurd as it would be in a Hay- 
tian negro of our time to dwell with national pride on the greatness 
of Lewis XIV., and to speak of Blenheim and Ramillies with patriotic 
regret and shame. The Conqueror and his descendants- to the fo\rth 
generation were not Englishmen : most of them were born in France : 
their ordinary speech was French : almost every high office in their 
gift was filled by a Frenchman : every acquisition which they made on 
the continent estranged them more and more from the population of 
our island." Though every trace of this double and hostile nationality 
has long passed away, abundant monuments of its having once existed 
may be still observed in our language. The family names of the higher 
aristocracy in England are almost universally French, while those of 
the middle and lower orders are as unmistakably German. Thus our 
peerage abounds in Russells (Roussel), Mortimers (Mortemar), Cour- 
tenays, and Talbots, while the Smiths, Browns, Johnsons, and Hodgkins 
plainly betray their Teutonic origin. Under the Norman regime the 
Saxon subdivisions of the country were transformed from the demo- 
cratic skire into the feudal county, administered by a military governor 



A.D. I066.3 LANGUAGE AND LITERATURE. 21 

or count. The ancient Saxon zviianagemote, or thing; was metamor- 
phosed into the feudal Parlement., the members of which occupied their 
seats, not as elective representatives of the people, but in their feudal 
capacity as vassals in the enjoyment of military fiefs. Thus the great 
ecclesiastical dignitaries took part of right in the deliberations of the 
legislative body, in their quality of holders of lands, and as such dis- 
posing of a certain contingent of military force. 

But it is with the effects of the Norman Conquest upon the language 
of the country that we are at present concerned : and it is here that 
the task of tracing the process of admixture between the two races 
becomes at once more complicated and more interesting. On their 
arrival in Normandy, the piratical followers of Hrolf the Ganger had 
found themselves exposed to the civilizing influences which a small 
minority of rude conquerors, placed in the midst of a subject popula- 
tion superior to them in numbers as well as intellectual cultivation, 
can never long resist with success. Like the hordes of barbarian 
invaders who shared among them the territories of the Roman empire, 
the Northmen, with the Christianity of the conquered nation, imbibed 
also the language and civilization so intimately connected with that 
Christianity, and in an incredibly brief space of time exchangee} for 
their native Scandinavian dialect a language entirely similar, in its 
words and grammatical forms, to the idiom prevalent in the northern 
division of France. It was a repetition of the introduction of Greek 
art and culture into republican Rome : — 

Greecia capta ferum victorem cepit et artes. 

The language thus communicated by the subject to the conquered 
nation was a dialect of that great Romance speech which extended 
during the Middle Ages from the northern shore of the Mediterranean 
to the British Channel, and which may be defined as the decomposition 
of the classical Latin. It was soon divided into two great sister- 
idioms, the Langue-d'Oc and the Langue-d'Oil (so called from the 
different words for yes)^ the general boundary or line of demarcation 
between them being roughly assignable as coinciding with the Loire. 
The former of these languages, spoken to the south of this river, was 
closely allied to the Spanish and Italian, and was subsequently called 
the Provencal ; the latter was the parent of the French. Knowing the 
circumstances under which such a dialect as the Romance was formed, 
it is no difficult problem to establish a priori the changes which the 
mother-tongue, or Latin, must have undergone, in its process of trans- 
formation into what, though afterwards developed into regular and 
beautiful dialects, was at first little better than a barbarous jargon. 
The language of ancient Rome, a highly inflected and complicated 
tongue, naturally lost all, or nearly all its inflections and grammatical 
complexity. Thus the Latin substantive and adjective lost all those 
terminations which in the original language expressed relation, as the 
various cases of the different declensions ; these relations being thence- 
forward indicated by the simpler expedient of prepositions. 



22 ORIGIN OF THE ENGLISH [Chap. I. 

§ 7. The literary models introduced into England by the Norman 
invasion were no less important than the linguistic changes consequent 
upon the admixture of their Romance dialect with the Saxon speech. 
Together with the institutions of feudalism the Normans brought with 
them the poetry of feudalism, that is, the poetry of chivalry. The 
la is and romances, the fabliaux and the legends of mediceval chivalry 
soon began to modify the rude poetical sagas and the tedious narratives 
of the lives of saints and hermits which had formed the bulk of the 
literature of Saxon England. Few subjects have excited more lively 
controversy among the learned than the origin and specific character 
of the Romance literature. In particular the distinction between the 
compositions of the Norman Trouveres and of the Provencal Trouba- 
dours has given rise to many elaborate dissertations and many con- 
tending theoi-ies : and yet the fundamental question may be easily, and, 
we think, not unsatisfactorily, solved by the simple comparison of the 
two terms. Trouvhre and Troubadour are obviously the two forms of 
the same word as pronounced respectively by the population who 
spoke the Langue-d'Oil and the Langue-d'Oc. The natural and pic- 
turesque definition of a poet as i^ finder or inventor hezLXS some analogy 
with the term Skald, or polisher of language, by which the same idea 
was represented among the Scandinavians, with the Greek nonjri',g, a 
term exactly reproduced in the Maker of the Lowland Scots ; and the 
beautiful qualification of the poetic art as el gay saber and la gitoye 
science, no less faithfully corresponds to the idea contained in the 
Saxon term gleeman, applied to the singer or bard, whose invention 
furnished the joy of the banquet. Now, if we keep in mind the charac- 
teristic differences which are universally found to distinguish a North- 
ern as compared with a Southern people, we shall generally find that 
in the former the imagination, the sentiments, and the memory are 
most developed, while the latter will be more remarkable for the 
vivacity of the passions and the intensity — and consequently also the 
transitory duration — of the affective emotions. We might therefore 
predict h priori, given respectively a Northern and a Southern popula- 
tion, that among the former an imaginative or poetical literature would 
have a natural tendency to take a narrative, and among the latter a 
lyric, form : for narrative is the necessary type in v/hich the first- 
mentioned class of intellectual qualities would clothe themselves, while 
ardent and transitory passion would as inevitablj' express itself in the 
lyric form. And this is what we actually find, on comparing the 
prevailing literary type of the Trouvhre with that of the Troubadour 
literature. It is evident that the composition of long narrative recitals 
of real or imaginary events would require a certain degree of literary 
culture, as well as a considerable amount of leisure ; and therefore 
many of the interminable romances of the Trouveres may be traced to 
the ecclesiastical profession ; while the shorter and more lively lyric 
and satiric i^ffusions which constitute the bulk of the Troubadour liter- 
ature were t'requently the productions of princes, knights, and ladies, 



A. D. io66.] LAKGUAGE AND LITERATURE. 23 

the power of writing verse being considered as one of the necessarjr 
accomplishments of a gentleman : — 

*' He coude songes make, and wel endite." 

Concerning the source from which the Romance poets, both of the 
Northern and Southern dialects, drew the materials for their ehivalric 
fictions, great diversity has prevailed; and the various theories which 
have been broached on this curious subject maj' be practicallj reduced 
to two hypotheses ; the one tracing these inventions to an Oriental, and 
the other to a Celtic source ; while a third class of investigators have 
endeavored to assign to them a Teutonic paternity, whether in the 
general German or the exclusively Scandinavian nationality'. Each of 
these theories has been supported with much ingenuity, and defended 
with an immense display of learning : but they are all equally obnox- 
ious to the reproach of having been made too exclusive : the existence 
of the well-marked general features of Chivalric Romance long before 
the European nations acquired, by the Crusades, any familiarity with 
the imagery and scenery of the East renders the first hypothesis 
untenable in its full extent; while the second is in a great measure 
invalidated by the comparativelj' barbarous state into which the Celtic 
tribes had generally fallen at the time when the Chivalric literature 
began to prevail, and the little knowledge which the Romance popu- 
lations of Europe possessed of the ancient Gaulic language and 
historical legendary lore. It is true that the Trouveres almost inva- 
riably pretend to have found the subjects of their narratives in the 
traditions, or among the chronicles of the " olde gentil Bi-etons," ju^t 
as Marie de France refers her reader to the Celtic or Armorican 
authorities ; but this was in all probability in general a mere, literaiy 
artifice, like that which induced other poets to place the venue of their 
wondrous adventures in some distant and unknown region : — 
" In Sarra, in the lond of Tartarie." 

The important part played in these legends by the half-mythical Ar- 
thur and his knights might seem to argue in favor of a Celtic origin 
for these fictions ; for if ever such a personage as Arthur really existed 
he must have been a British prince ; but when we remember that 
Arthur, though mentioned in the authentic traditional poems of the 
ancaint Britons, is a comparatively insignificant character, and that 
these same traditions contain no trace whatever of the existence of 
that chivalric state of society of which Arthur and his ^reux are the 
ideal, we shall find ourselves as much warranted in accepting the 
authenticity of a Celtic origin on these grounds, as in attributing the 
chivalric character with which Alexander, Hector, and Hercules are 
also invested in the mediteval poets, to an intimate acquaintance with 
the Homeric .and classical poems, from which the Troubadour may 
indeed have borrowed some striking names and leading incidents, but 
with the true spirit of which every line shows him to be unacquainted.* 
§ 8. For two centuries after the Norman conquest, the Anglo-Saxon 

* See Notes and Illustrations (B), Anglo-Norman Literature. 



24 ORIGIN OF THE ENGLISH [Chap. 1. 

and the Norman-French continued to be spoken in the island, as two 
distinct languages, having little intermixture with one another. The 
most important change, which converted the Anglo-Saxon into Old 
English, and which consists chiefly in the substitution of the vowel e 
for the different inflections, was not due in any considerable degree to 
the Norman conquest, though it was probably hastened by that event. 
It commenced even before the Norman conquest, and was owing to the 
same causes which led to similar changes in the kindred German 
dialects. The large introduction of French words into English 'dates 
from the time when the Normans began to speak the language of the 
conquered race. It is, however, an error to represent the English lan- 
guage as springing from a mixture of Anglo-Saxon and French ; since 
a mixed language, in the strict sense of the term, may be pronounced 
an impossibility. The English still remained essentially a German 
tongue, though it received such large accessions of French words as 
materially to change its character. To fix with precision the date when 
this change took place is manifestly an impossible task. It was a 
gradual process, and must have advanced with more or less rapidity 
in difterent parts of the country. In remote and less frequented districts 
the mass of the population long preserved their pure Saxon speech. 
This is sufficiently proved by the circumstance, that even in the present 
day, the inhabitants of such remote, or uj>la?id districts, still show in 
their patois an evident preponderance of the Saxon element, as ex- 
hibited in the use of many old German words which have long ceased 
to form part of the English vocabulary, and in the evident retention 
of German peculiarities of pronunciation. " Nothing can be more 
difiicult," says Hallam, " than to determine, except by an arbitrary 
line, the commencement of the English language ; not so much, as in 
those of the Continent, because we are in want of materials, but rather 
from an opposite reason — the possibility of tracing a very gradual suc- 
cession of verbal changes, that ended in a change of denomination. 
For when we compare the earliest English of the thirteenth century 
with the Anglo-Saxon of the twelfth, it seems hard to pronounce why 
it should pass for a separate language, rather than a modification or 
simplification of the former. We must conform, however, to usage, 
and say that the Anglo-Saxon was converted into English : i. by con- 
tracting or otherwise modifying the pronunciation and orthography of 
words ; 2. by omitting many inflections, especially of the noun, and 
consequently making more use of articles and auxiliaries ; and 3. by 
the introduction of French derivatives. Of these the second alone, 
I think, can be considered as sufiicient to describe a new form of 
language ; and this was brought about so gradually, that we are not 
relieved of much of our difficulty, whether some compositions shall 
pass. for the latest oft'spring of the mother, or for the earliest proofs of 
the fertility of the daughter." 

The picturesque illustration, so happily emploj-ed by Scott in the 
opening chapter of Ivanhoe, has often been quoted as a good popular 
exemplification of the mode in which the Saxon and French elements 



A. D. I250.] LANGUAGE AND LITERATURE. 5^5 

were blended : the common animals serving for food to man, while 
under the charge of Saxon serfs and bondmen, retained their Teutonic 
appellation ; but when served up at the table of the Norman oppressor 
received a French designation. As examples of this, he cites the par- 
allels Ox and Beef, Sivifie and Pork, Sheep and Mutton, Calf and Veal. 
It is curious to see, on examining the grammar and vocabulary of the 
early English language, as exhibited in the writings of our old poets 
and chroniclers, how often the primitive Saxon forms continued very 
gradually to become effaced, while the French orthography and pro- 
nunciation of the newly introduced words have not j-et become harmo- 
nized, so to speak, with the general character of the new idiom. Thus, 
in the following lines of Chaucer : — 

" The sleer of himself yet saugh I there, 
His herte-blood hath bathed al his here ; 
The nayl y-dryve in the shode a-nyght ; 
The colde deth, with mouth gapyng upright, 
Amyddes of the tempul set mischaunce, 
With scry comfort and evel contynaunce." 

In these verses we see the Saxon grammatical forms combined with a 
large importation of Norman-French words, which have not yet lost 
their original accentuation. The old German is found running into, 
as it were, and overlapping the lately-introduced Gallicism. Such 
was the state in which Chaucer found the national idiom at the begin- 
ning of the fourteenth centuiy, and the admirable genius of that great 
poet may be said to have put the last touch to the consolidation of the 
English language. For a considerable period after his time, however, 
such writings as were addressed to the sympathies of the lower classes 
continued to retain much of the Saxon characteristics in orthography, 
grammatical structure, and versification ; for example, traces of the 
peculiar alliterative system are perceptible for a period long subsequent 
to the reign of Richard II., while the elaborate compositions addressed 
to the still purely Norman nobility retain much of the French spirit in 
their diction and imagery. 

§ 9. Though it is impossible to assign any exact date to the change 
of Anglo-Saxon into English, the chief alterations in the language may 
be arranged approximately under the following epochs : — 

I. Anglo-Saxon, from A. D. 450 to 1150. 

II. Semi-Saxon, from A. D. 1150 to 1250 (from the reign of Stephen 
to the middle of the reign of Henry III.), so called because it partakes 
strongly of the characteristics of both Anglo-Saxon and Old English. 

III. Old English, from A. D. 1250 to 1350 (from the middle of the reign 
of Henry III. to the middle of the reign of Edward III.). 

IV. Middle English, from A. D. 1350 to about 1550 (from the middle 
of the reign of Edward III. to the reign of Edward VI.). 

V. Modern English, from A. D. 1550 to the present day.* 

* The -writers who wish to discard the term Anglo-Saxon call the Anglo- 
Saxon First English, the Semi-Ssxon Second English, and give the name of 
Third English to the remnining periods. 
3 



26 



NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 



[Chap. I. 



The three first periods scarcely belong to a history of English litera- 
'ture, and consequently only a brief account of them is given in the 
Notes and Illustrations appended to the present chapter. The real 
history of English literature begins with Chaucer, in the brilliant reiga 
of Edward III, * 



NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS, 



A. — ANGLO-SAXON LITERATURE. 
A. D. 450-1150. 

The earliest literature of the Anglo-Saxons bears 
the impress of the religious culture under which it 
was formed. Unlike their brethren, who sung their 
old heroic lays in their primeval forests, the con- 
querors of the rich provinces of Britain had sunk 
from action to contemplation, and their literature 
was artificial. There was but little difference of 
time in the development of poetry and prose ; and 
the works produced were, with only three excep- 
tions, the elaborate compositions of educated men, 
rather than the spontaneous products of genius, in- 
spired by a people's ancient legends. The chief 
subjects were moral, religious, historical, and didac- 
tic. Undei^thc tutelage of the Church, the most 
lasting monuments of Anglo-Saxon prose literature 
were written in Latin; and the vernacular tongue 
was chiefly employed in translating the learned 
works of such men as Bede and Alcuin. What 
value it possesses is chiefly for its matter ; for it al- 
most entirely wants that beauty of form, which 
alone raises literature to an art. 

I. The Veknactjlae Poetet scarcely retains 
a trace of that wild epic fire which is seen in the 
Scandinavian Sagas, (i.) We have only three spe- 
cimens of old national songs, written in the spirit of 
the continental Germans, and probably composed, 
in part at least, before their migration to England. 
The first of these is the Lay of Beowulf, which is 
fully described in the text. Its spirit is that of the 
old heathen Germans. It seems to have been origi- 
nated at the primitive seat of the .\ngles, in Schles- 
wig, and to have been brought over to England 
about the end of the fifth century. The other two 
are the Traveller's Sonff, and the Battle of Finnes- 
burg, the scene of which seems to be on the Conti- 
nent. It is only in the tenth century that we again 
meet with compositions of this class, in the patri- 
otic poems on Athelstane's Victory at Brunanburgh 
(A. D. 938), on the Coronation (A. D. 958), and the 
Death of Edgar (A. D. 975), and on the Battle of 
Jlalc/on (A. D. 993). (2.) Of Religious Poetry, the 
chief specimen is the so-called Metrical Paraphrase 
of the Scrij/tures, which Bede ascribes to CJiDMOi^, 
a monk of Whitby, in the seventh centurj'. 
Some modem writers assign the work to a mucli 
later date. But whatever be the date, it is a striking 
poem, and appears to have supplied Milton with 
some hints. One passage strikingly resembles Mil- 
ton's soliloquy of Satan in hell. Cynewulf (in 
Latin Kenulphus), a monk of Winchester, and 
abbot of Peterborough in 932, is higlily eulogized 
by a local historian ; but we have only two short 



poems which preserve his name in a sort of acroitic 
of Runic characters. Aldhelm, the great Latin 
writer mentioned below, wrote poetry in the 
vernacular, and is said to have translated the Book 
of Psalms into Anglo-Saxon verse. These poems 
were preserved orally, not only by the minstrels, 
but as exercises of memory by the monks. Uence 
the MSS. exhibit very great diversities. 

n. Anglo-Saxo>" Liteeatuee in Latin de- 
mands notice before the vernacular prose literature, 
as the latter was, for the most part, based upon tho 
former. It was the product of foreign ecclesiastical 
influence. The earliest missionaries were imbued 
with the learning of the Western Church and great 
schools were soon founded in Kent and the South, 
and afterwards in Northurabria. In the latter part 
of the seventh centurj, TUEODOEE OF TaeSUS 
became Archbishop of Canterbury, and, with his 
friend the ABBOT Apeian, taught both Greek and 
Latin literature. In the eighth century, books were 
so multiplied, that Alcuin complains to Charle- 
magne of the literary poverty of France as com- 
pared with England. He also gives an account of 
the great library at York, from which and other 
lists we can see what writers formed the taste of 
the seventh, eighth, and ninth centuries. There 
was a decided preference for the Greek authors 
above the Latin. The classical poets were read, but 
with a religious suspicion, and the works most val- 
ued were those of the Fathers and the Christian 
poets, whose faults are closely imitated in the Latin 
poetry of the Anglo-Saxon churchmen. The ecclesi- 
astical taste was strengthened and the literary treas- 
ures increased by the habit of visiting Rome, which 
became frequent in the eighth century. Many 
women were celebrated for their learning. 

(1) Anglo-Latin Poetry. 

Almielm, of Sherborne, founder of the abbey of 
Malmesbury (b. about A. D. 65C, d. A. D. 709), was 
the most distinguished pupil of Adrian. His poetry 
is turgid and full of extravagant conceits. He wrote 
in hexameters Z)e Laude Virginitatis (besides a 
prose treatise on the same theme), a book of ^nig- 
mata in imitation of Symposius, and a poem on the 
Seven Cardinal Virtues. These, with a few letters, 
are all his extant works. The great prose writer 
Ai.cuiN (see below) was also fertile in Latin verse. 
His style is simpler than Aldhelm's, but less ani- 
mated, nis best poem is an Elegy on the Destruc- 
tion of Lindisfarne hy the Danes. The long poem 
on the Church of York has also some good descrip- 
tive passages. lie also wrote Epigrams, Elegies, 
and .Enigmata. Columban, Boniface, Bede, and 
i Cuthbert, wrote some Latin versos ; and, passing 



Chap. I.] 



ANGLO-SAXON LITERATURE, 



27 



over a few others, the list concludes, in the tenth 
century, with the Life of St. Wilfred, by FKn>i:- 
GODE, and the Life of St. Swithun by WoLbXAN. 

(21 The Latin Prose Literature of the Anglo- 
Saxons consists of religious treatises, works on sci- 
ence and education, and histories in which the ec- 
clesiastical element preponderates; but its most 
interesting remains are the letters of Alcuin and 
Boniface, for the light they throw on contemporary 
history and manners. 

(a) The period opens with some writers, who 
were not Saxons, but of the old Celtic race, which 
had preserved British Christianity, or had learned 
it anew from Ireland. Passlag over the obscure 
Histories of Gildas, son of the British King of 
Alcluyd (Dumbarton), in the sixth century, and 
Kenxils, whose work is probablj' not genuine, in 
the seventh, we come to St. Columuanus (lived 
about A. D. 54.3-C15) of Ireland, who, having joined 
the lately founded monastery at Bangor, set out 
thence at the head of a mission to the eastern parts 
of Gaul, Switzerland, and the south-west of Ger- 
many. He wrote in Latin several theological trea- 
tises, some poems, and five letters. Nearly two cen- 
turies later Ireland sent forth Joua:nnes Scotus, 
surnamed from his native laud EriGEXA (d. A. D. 
877), who settled in France, and became, by his dia- 
lectic skill and his acquaintance with the doctrines 
of Xco-Platonism, one of the founders of the philo- 
sophical sect of the Realists. The story of his com- 
ing to England on Alfred's invitation is more than 
doubtful. 

(b) The earliest Anglo-Saxon prose writer in 
Latin is WiLFEEi) (lived A. D. 6;^-709), Archbishop 
of York and apostle of Sussex, who succeeded, after 
a troubled life, in uniting the churches of the Anglo- 
Saxon kingdoms. His works are lost ; but he de- 
Ber\'es mention as the founder of the school of learn- 
ing at York, which was fostered by Bishop Egbert 
(A. D. 678-7GG), and produced Bede and Alcuin, 
the two great names of the Anglo-Saxon Latin lit- 
erature. 

The course of Bede (A. D. 673-735), surnamed 
the " Venerable," is a perfect tj-pe of the outward 
repose and intellectual activity of the monastic life, 
in its best aspect. At the age of seven he was placed 
under the teaching of Benedict Biscop, in the mon- 
astery of Wearmouth ; became a deacon at nine- 
teen, and a priest at thirty. Whether he visited 
Rome is uncertain. He only left his monastery on 
rare visits to other religious houses ; and his dying 
moments were divided between religious exercises 
and dictating the last sentences of a work which he 
just lived to finish. 

His works embrace the whole compass of the 
learning of his age. Numbering no less than forty- 
five, they may be divided into four classes : Theo- 
logical, consisting chiefly of commentaries on the 
Scriptures, pervaded by the allegorical metliod; 
Scientific Treatises, exhibiting the imperfect knowl- 
edge of science, i'roin Pliny to his own time ; Gram- 
matical Works, which display much learning; 
with some correct but lifeless Latin poems ; HiMor- 
ical Compositions, which place him in the first rank 
among writers of the middle ages. The History of 
his own Monastery and the Life of St. Cuthbcrt 
deserve mention ; but his great work is tl\e Ecclesi- 
astical History of the Anyh-Saxons from their 



first settlement in England. He used the aid of the 
most learned men of his time in collecting tlie docu- 
ments and traditions of the various kingdoms, 
which he relates with scrupulous fidelity and in a 
very pleasing style. The History was translated" 
into Anglo-Saxon by King Alfred. 

Bede was surrounded by a body of literary friends, 
as Acca and others, among whom the most distin- 
guished was Egbert, Arclibishop of York (about 
A. D. 678-7G6), the reformer of his diocese, and 
founder of the splendid library already mentioned. 
His writings are chiefly on points of discipline, and 
two of them, the Corifessionale and Pcenitentiule, 
were published in Anglo-Saxon as well as in Latin. 
St. Boniface ( Winfrid), a native of Crediton in 
Devonshire (lived about A. D. 680-755) and tlie 
apostle of Western Germany, has left a collection 
of valuable letters, amounting (with those addressed 
to him) to a hundred and six. The eighth century 
closes with the great name of Alccin (about A. D. 
735-804). He was bom at York, and, like Bede, 
was placed in a convent in his infancy. Trained in 
the school of Arclibishop Egbert, he became the 
favorite pupil of that prelate's kinsman and suc- 
cessor, Albert, on whose appointment to the arch- 
bishopric (A. D. 76G), the school was intrusted to 
Alcuin, just ordained a deacon. Eanbald, a pupil 
of Alcuin, on succeeding to the archbishopric 
(A. D. 780), sent Alcuin to Rome, and this mission 
caused his introduction to Charlemagne, at whose 
court he resided with magnificent appointments till 
A. D. 790, and again from A. D. 792 to his deatli. 
His works were commentaries, dogmatic and prac- 
tical treatises, lives of saints, and several vciy 
interesting letters. His Latin poems have been al- 
ready noticed. He is chiefly important in the His- 
tory of English Literature, as another cxami)le, like 
that of Erigcna, of what the Continent gained from 
the learning of these islands. The name of Assl:l^ 
Bishop of Sherborne (d. A. D. 910), is connected 
with a Latin history of King Alfred, of very doubt- 
ful authenticity. The renowned Dunstan (A. D. 
925-988) wrote commentaries on the Benedictine 
rule, and other works. Of his contemporary 0l)O 
(d. 9G1), we have only a single letter. A few other 
names might still be mentioned. 

in. Tlie Vernacular Anglo-Saxon Pkosr 
Literature contains few but great names. Above 
all shines that of King Alfred (A. D. 848-9(iI), 
the story of whose early training and life-long self- 
discipline needs not to be recounted here. His early 
love for the old national poetry, the growing neglect 
of Latin even by the priests, and the eager desire, 
of which he himself tells us, that the people might 
enjoy the treasures of learning collected in the 
churches for security from the invaders, urged him 
to the culture of the native tongue for popular in- 
struction. Wliile inviting over learned men to re- 
pair the decay of scholarship, the king himself set 
the example of translating existing works into the 
vernacular. Having learned Latin only late in life, 
he did not disdain the help of scholars, such as 
Bishop Asser, in clearing up grammatical diliicul- 
ties, while he brouglit to the work untiring industrj', 
great capacity of comprehending the author's gen- 
eral meaning, and sound judgment upon puints 
needing illustration. His most important transla- 
tions were those of Bede's Ecclesiastical History^ 



28 



NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 



[Chap. I. 



the Ancient Ilhtoru of Orosius, Boethius de Conso- 
latio/ie rhiloso;ihia:, and, for tlic use of the clergy, 
the Pastorale of St. Gregory. According to Wil- 
liam of Mahnesbury, Alfred had commenced an 
Anglo-Saxon version of the Psalms shortly before 
his death. Among the works falsely attributed to 
him aid Alfred's Proverbs, a. translation of yEsop's 
Fables, and a metrical version of the Metres of 
Boethius. Slauy works were translated by the 
king's order or after hia example; for instance, 
the Dialogues of St. (Gregory, by Werfred, Bishop 
of Worcester. The new intellectualimpulse, given 
by Alfred's policy of calling foreign scholars into 
the realm, which was followed by other kings down 
to the eve of the Conquest, sustained tlie revival of 
Anglo-Saxon literature in full activity for some 
time. 

The great light of the tenth century was Alfric, 
Archbishop of Canterbury, sumamed Grammatieus 
(d. A. D. 1006), whose opposition to Romish doc- 
trines called attention to his work, and so gave an 
impulse to Anglo-Saxon studies in modern times. 
His eighty Homilies are hia chief work. lie also 
translated the Books of Moses, and wrote other the- 
ological treatises. As a grammarian he labored to 
revive the neglected study of Latin by his Latin 
Grammar (from Donatus and Priscian), his Glos- 
sary and Colloquium (a conversation book), lie 
appears as a scientific writer in the Manual of As- 
trouoni'j, if it is rightly assigned to him. He is 
oflen confounded with two other Alfrics, the name 
being common among the Anglo-Saxons. There 
was an Alfric, Abbot of Mahnesbury (d. A. D. 994), 
and an Alfric, surnamed Bata, Archbishop of York 
(d. 1051), adevoteddiscipleof the great Alfric, whose 
Grammar and Colloquium he republished, besides 
writing a life of Bishop Ethelwold (A. D. 9i^'J84). 
In the eleventh century we need only mention 
WULFSTAN, Archbishop of York (d. 1023), the 
author of some homilies. 

It remains to notice two great monuments of 
Anglo-Saxon prose literature, the Chronicle and the 
Laws. The Saxon Chronicle is a record of the his- 
tory of the people, compiled at first, as is believed, 
for Alfred, by Plcgmund, Archbishop of Canter- 
bury, who brought it dowai to A. D. 891. Thence it 
was continued, as a contemporary record, to the 
end of the Anglo-Saxon period, in the middle of 
the twelfth century. It breaks off abruptly in the 
first year of Henry II. (A. D. 1154). " It is a dry 
chronological record, noting in the same lifeless 
tone important and trifling events without the 
slightest tinge of dramatic color, of criticism in 
weighing evidence, or of judgment in the selection 
of the facts narrated" (Marsh, Origin and History 
of the English Language, Lect. iii. p. lOa). This 
want of historical talent, as the same writer observes, 
prevents our learning from it much of our ancestors' 
social life, or of the practical working of their in- 
stitutions. 

Tlfe fragments of the Anglo-Saxon Laws contain 
some as early as the reign of Ethelbert, King of 
Kent, reduced, however, to the language of a later 
age. Alfred, who began the work, saj's that, with 
the advice of his Witan, he rejected what did not 
please him. but added little of his o\<m. The work 
was then submitted to and adopted by the fVitan. 
His chief fellowers in these labors wore Athclstane, 



Ethelrcd, and Canute. (See Schmid, Oesetze der 
Angel- Sachsen, 2d ed. 1853.) 

B.— anglo-nor:wan literature. 

A.D. 10C3-iaW. 
The Norman Conquest had both a destructive and 
a reconstructive influence on the literature of the 
country. The ordinance, forbidding the Saxon 
clergy to aspire to any ecclesiastical dignitj', con- 
fined the literary activity that was left to the mon- 
asteries, except in the case of those who were will- 
ing to adapt themselves to the new state of things. 
The Anglo-Saxon learning gradually died out by 
the middle of the twelfth centuiy; its chief work 
being the completion of the Saxon Chronicle in the 
monastery of Peterborough. The chief works o< 
learning were composed in Latin ; while for lighte! 
compositions the English adopted the language of 
their conquerors. On the other hand, the Normans 
uitrodueed a new and most potent element of intel- 
lectual activity. The fifty years preceding the Con- 
quest had witnessed a great revival of learning on 
the Continent, originating from the Arabs, who Isad 
themselves become imbued with the Greek learning 
of the conquered East. Thus the revival of letters 
in the eleventh century, like the brighter revival in 
the fifteenth, owed its source to the ancient Greeks; 
but with this great difference : while, in the latter 
case, inspiration was drawn from the great poets 
and orators, the Arabs were chiefly attracted by tiie 
physical, logical, and metaphysical works of the 
school of Aristotle. The Aristotelian logic >and 
spirit of systematizing were eagerly applied to the- 
ology, especially in France. The monasteries of 
Caen and Bee, in Normandy, became distinguished 
seats of the new science; and in them were trained 
Lanfeano and A>;GrLM, the first great lights of 
Anglo-Norman learning. Indeed Anselm is often 
regarded as thefounder of the Scholastic PbSiosophy, 
which was the fruit of the new movement. But he 
is only a connecting link. The old method of 
treating theologj', followed by the Fathers, was 
based on the foundation of faith in the dogmatic 
statements of Scriptui-e. The scholastic philosophy 
aspired to establish a complete system of truth l)y a 
chain of irrefragable reasoning. Anselm only ap- 
plied its methods to the establishment of separate 
doctrines; while AHELARD, breaking away from 
the old foundation of faith, which Anselm tacitly 
assumed, made the same methods the instnunents 
of scepticism. He was met by St. Bef.xakd, who 
took his stand upon the old patristic ground. 
" Scholasticism," says Mr. Arnold {Eng. Lit. p. 15), 
" made a false start in the school of Bee; its true 
commencement dates a little later, and from Paris." 
Its founder was PETER LOiMBAKD, called the 
" Master of the Sentences," from his Four Books of 
Sentences, published in A. D. 1151. Thus the same 
age produced St. Bernard, the last of the Fathers, 
and Peter Lombard, the first of the schoolmen. In 
England there is no trace of the new learning be- 
fore the Conquest, though she had helped to prepare 
for it by sending forth such men as Erigena and 
Alcuin. Erigena, indeed, as early as the ninth 
century, had employed philosophical methods in 
religious discussion; but he was a Platonist; the 
schoolmen were .^iristotelians. The new learning 
not only entered in the train of tlie Conqueror, but 



CfeAP. I.] 



ANGLO-NORMAN LITERATURE, 



29 



was fostered by his personal influence. William, 
and nearly all his successors, down to Henry III., 
were themselves well educated, and patronized lit- 
erature and art. The displacement of the Saxon 
bishops and abbots seems to have arisen from con- 
tempt for their illiteracy, as well as from political 
Uiotives ; and tlieir places were filled by the most 
learned of the Norman ecclesiastics, as Archbishops 
Lanfranc and Anselm, HERMAN, Bishop of Salis- 
bury, who founded a great library, GODFBET, Prior 
of St. Swithiu's at Wincliestor, who wrote Latin 
epigrams in the style of Martial, and GEOFFREY, 
an eminent scholar from the University of Paris, 
who founded a school at Dmistable, and acted, with 
his scholars, a drama of his own on the Life of St. 
Catharine. Numerous as were the Saxon monas- 
teries, no less than five hundred and fifly-seven new 
religious houses were founded, from the Conquest 
to the reign of John. All of these, as well as the 
cathedrals, had schools for *hose destined to the 
church, and gcnei-al scliooli were founded in the 
towns and villagck. The twelfth ce> tury witnessed 
the foundation of our two great L niversities ; but 
they were at first regardet, rather as portals to tiic 
coutineutal Universities, to which English subjects 
resorted in great numbers, especially to Paris, 
where they formed one of the four " nations." Clas- 
sical learning revived at the Universities, and was 
extended from the Latin poets to Greek and even 
Hebrew, in the thirteenth century, chiefly by the 
influence of RouEBX Grosseteste, Bishop of 
Lincoln. About the same time, the invention of 
the art of making paper from linen rags more than 
niade up for tlie growing lack of parchment, and 
gave a new mechanical impulse to literature. 

Meauxhilc, the tenacity with which the English 
language held its ground ainoug tlie common peo- 
ple, caused the ultimate fruit of these movements 
to be shown in the formation of a truly Engliifh 
literature in the thirleentli and fourteentli centuries. 

It remains to mention the classes of literature 
and tiie chief writers of tlie period. Literature 
being cultivated almost entirely by the clergy and 
tlie minstrels, nearly all the prose works were in 
Latin, and the poetry in Norman-French; exclu- 
sive, however, of the contemporaneous Semi-Saxon 
literature (see below, C). An age of violence and 
oppression permitted but little popular literature, 
in tiie proper sense. 

1. AN<iLO-N<)KMAIi ANI> ANGLO-SAXON LIT- 
ERATURE IN Latin. — 1. Theologians and School- 
men. — Lanfranc (b. A. D. 1005, d. A. D. 1089) 
was a Lombard of Pavia, where, after studying in 
other Italian Universities, he practised as a pleader. 
Removing to Normandy, he opened a school at 
Avranches (A. D. 1085 or later), whicli became a 
centre of elegant Latinity. In A. D. 1042 he sud- 
denly joined the small abbey of Bee; was elected 
prior, and opei\ed a school, which soon surpassed 
that of Avranelies. He soon found a wider field for 
his ambition as tlie counsellor of Duke William; 
and being sent by him on a Tuission to Rome, he 
distinguished liimself by defending the doctrine of 
transubstantiation, against Berengarius of Tours. 
In A. D. lOoG (the year of the Conquest), William 
made him abbot of his new monastery of St. 
Stephen at Caen, and in 1070 lie became Archbishop 
of Cauteibury, in place of the deposed Saxon prel- 

'3* 



ate Stigand. His reform of the Anglo-Saxon 
Church and severity towards its clergy concern us 
here less than his invitations to learned foreigners, 
whereby he founded a new school of science and 
literature in England. His great work was the 
Treatise against Berengarius (written A. D. 1079 
or 1080) ; he also wrote Commentaries on Scrip- 
tm-e, and Letters. Many of Lanfrancls works are 
lost. Anseem (b. A. D. 10;33, d. 1100) was also an 
Italian, of Aosta. His eagerness for learning led 
him to Bee, where he succeeded Lanfranc as prior, 
and afterwards became abbot in place of Herluin 
(A. D. 1078). Most of his works were composed 
here, while he gained the highest reputation for 
piety, and taught diligently. On his second visit 
to England, in A. D. 101>2, the voice of the bishopa, 
and barons forced William Rufus to appoint him 
as the successor of Lanfranc, who had been dead 
four years. Anselm's troubles in the primacy be- 
long to history rather than literature; but amidst 
them all he continued to write and teach. It is un- 
necessary to enumerate his many works, which 
are less important than his influence on the learn- 
ing of his age. They consist of theological and 
dialectic treckises, homilies, devout meditations, 
and letters. His claims to a share in the Hym- 
nology of the church are doubtful. Besides many 
distinguished prelates, only inferior in fume to 
these two, some of whom are mentioned above, we 
may name two writers of more general literature, 
John of Salisbury (died Bishop of Chartres iu 
A. D. 1182), an Englishman, who wrote a treatise De 
JS'ugis Curiulinm et Ve.stigiis riulofophorwn, be- 
sides Latin verses ; and PETER OF Blois (d. after 
A. D. 1108), whose letters throw much light on the 
characters and manners of his time ; he wrote many 
other works, and an interesting poem on Richard's 
misfortunes in Palestine. The English Schoolmen 
were lor the most part of the Anglo-Saxon race, but 
lived chiefly abroad. Alex^vnber Haleb, "the 
Irrefragable Doctor," a native of Gloucestershire, 
v.as the teacher of St. Bonavcnture. He lived and 
taught abroad, ijnd died at Paris, A. D. 12-15. Jo- 
UANNES Duns Sootus, "the Subtle Doctor," 
taught at Oxford and Paris, and died at Bologna, 
A. D. 1308. WiELiAM of Occam (b. A. D. lyoo, 
d. A. D. 1347, at Munich), " the Invincible Doctor," 
spent most of his life at the court of the German 
Emperor, whose cause he maintained against the 
Pope. Thougli the pupil of the great Realist, Duns 
Scotus, he was the head of the school of the iVonit- 
nali-'its, who held that our abstract ideas are merely 
general expressions of thought, not necessarily cor- 
resipouding to real existences. At» Oxford, the 
Franciscan friar, Roger Bacon (about A. D. 1214- 
1202), by his devotion to physical science, gained 
the reputation of a sorcerer, while dimly anticipat- 
ing some of the great inventions of later times, 
among which is thought to have been that of gun- 
powder. His Oj-itis Majus is an inquiry into "tlie 
routi of wisdom ; " namely, language, mathematics, 
optics, and experimental science. That he hud 
begun to cast oft" the scholastic trammels, and al- 
ready to question nature in the spirit of his great 
namesake, is shown by his saying, on a disputed 
fact in physics, "I have tried it, and it is not the 
fact, but the very reverse." 
2. Latin Chronicles of paat and contemporary 



30 



NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 



[Chap. I. 



history had already been commenced before the 
Conquest. Tlieir writers were churchmen, and 
mostly of the Saxon race; and, with a few excep- 
tions, they confined tliemselves to the history of 
England. Passing over the more than doubtful 
work ascribed to Lngulviius, Abbot of Croyland 
(A. D. 1075-1109), and its continuation (to A. D. 
1118), we have a History of the Xorman Conquest 
by William of Poitiers, a follower of the Con- 
queror, extending from A. D. 1035 to A. D. 1067 ; 
but the beginning and end are lost ; we know that it 
came down to A. D. 1070. FLORENCE OF WORCES- 
TER (d. A. D. 1118) compiled a chronicle from the 
Creation to the year of his death, chiefly from the 
Saxon Chronicle, and the Chronology of Marianus 
Scotus, a German monk. Eaumer'S (d. A. D. 
11:^4) history is chiefly a monument to the fame of 
Anselm. Orbericus Vitalis (b. A. D. 1075, near 
Slirewsburj-, d. after A. D. 1143), wrote an Ecclesi- 
astical History in thirteen books, from the Creation 
to the latter year. The best of all these chroni- 
clers is William of Malmesuury (about A. D. 
1140), who dedicated his history to Robert, Earl of 
Gloucester, natural son of lleury I. It is in two 
parts; the Gesta Begum Anylorum, in five books, 
from the landing of Ilengist and Horsa to A. D. Il:i0, 
and the Historia Novella, in three books, down to 
A. D. 1142. Tlie work is written in the spirit and 
manner of Bede. He also wrote a Life of Wulfstan, 
a history of the English Bishops, and other works. 
His contemporary, Hensy OF Huntingdon (d. 
after A. D. 1154), also a worthy follower of Bede, 
though inferior to William, wrote a History of 
England, from the landing of Julius Cajsar to the 
accession of Henry 11. (A. D. 1154). To the eight 
books of the history he added his other works, 
forming four more, the last consisting of his Latin 
poems. Geoffrey of Monmouth (d. A. D. 
1154) also inscribed to Robert, Earl of Gloucester, 
his Historia Britonum, which professes to be a 
translation of an old British chronicle brought over 
from Brittany by Walter, Archdeacon of Oxford, in 
nine books: it relates the legendary story of tlie 
British kings, from Brutus, the great-grandson of 
yEueas, to the death of Cadwallader, son of Cad- 
wallo, in A. D. 688. The lively Welshman! keeps 
his country's traditions free from those rationaliz- 
ing attempts, which " spoil a good poem, without 
making a good history;" and he provided for the 
romance writers some of their best stories, among 
the rest, that of Arthur and the Knights of the 
Round Table. His work was abridged by Alfred 
or Alukex> of Beverlky, and continued by 
Caradoc of Lancarvan to A. D. 1154. The 
latter work is only known in a Welsh version, 
which has been translated into English. Another 
learned Welshman, Giraldus Camisrensis 
((ierald Barry, b. about A. D. 1146, d. A. D. 12-2S), 
wrote topographical works on Wales and Ireland, 
an account of his own life, and many other works, 
including Latin poems. He was about the most 
vigorous and versatile author of his time. 

AiLRED OF P-IEYAUX, in Yorkshire (b. A. D. 
lio;), d. A. D. 1106), has left an admirable account 
of the Battle of the Standard (A, D. 1138), and 
several theological works, Roger de Hoveden 
(i. c, of Xlowden, in Yorkshire) continued Bcde's 
History from A. D. 732 to A, D. 1202, transcribing 



many documents of great historical value. Geof- 
frey UE ViNSAUF wrote an important work on 
the Crusade, in which he followed Richard Cu;ur 
de Lion. Matthew Paris (a monk of St. Al- 
ban's) wTote his celebrated Historia Major, from 
the Norman Conquest to the year of his death, 
A. D. 1259. Much of it consists of open plagiarisms 
from the Chronicle, or Flores Historiaruin, of 
Roger de Wendover, also a monk of St. Al- 
bau's, who died Prior of Belvoir, May 6th, A. D. 
1237. This work extends from the Creation to the 
nineteenth year of Henry III. (A. D. 12.^)), and the 
latter part is very valuable. It was published by 
the Rev. Henry O. Coxe, for the English Historical 
Society, 5 vols. 8vo., London, 1841-1844. Another 
monk of St. Alban's, William Risiianger, con- 
tinued the work of Matthew Paris, probably to the 
fifteenth of Edward II. (A. D. 1.322), but the latter 
part of his book is lost. Nicholas Tritet wrote 
an excellent history, from Stephen to Edward I. 
(A. D. 1135-1307), which was edited by Mr. T. 
Hog, London, 1845. From these two works was 
compiled the Chronicle of St. Alban's, which is 
plagiarized (like Roger of Wendover by Matthew 
Paris) in the Historia Anglicana of WalSINGHAM, 
published by Air. Riley, 1863. Another chronicler 
of the 14th century isRALl'll or Ranulph Higden, 
a Benedictine monk of St. Werburgh at Chester, 
where he died at a great age, about A. D. 1370. 
His Polychronicon was a universal History in 
seven books. Only the part preceding the Norman 
Conquest was printed in Gale's Scriptores A'K. 
(0.xon. 1691, fol.); but John de Trevisa's English 
tj-anslation of the whole work, completed before 
the end of the century, was printed by Caxton, who 
added an eighth book, in A. D. 1482. Some author- 
ities ascribe to Higden the Chester Mysteries, per- 
formed in a: D. 1328. The History of Samson, 
Abbot of Bury St. Edmunds (A. D. 1173-1202), by 
JocELiN OF Brakelond, Only recently discov- 
ered, has furnished the materials for Mr. Carlyle's 
vivid picture of the old abbot and his age {I'ast and 
Present, 184;3). 

Besides the writings of these chroniclers (and sev- 
eral almost as important might be named), we have 
a mass of public rolls and registers, beginning with 
Domesday Book ; but these official documents hard- 
ly belong to literature. 

3. The frequent resort of Englishmen to the Uni- 
versity of Bologna gave an impulse to the study of 
Civil Law, which excited the emulation of the great 
masters of the Common Law, and so produced, 
towards the end of the twelfth century, the first 
great treatise on the laws of England, the Tractutus 
de I,egibus et Consuetadinihus Anglias, by the chief 
justiciary, Ranulf de GLAN^^L (d. A. D. 1190). 

4. The Letters of the leading churchmen of the 
age, besides the value of their matter, att'ord many 
good specimens of Latin composition. Beginning 
with Lanfranc and Anselm the series comes down 
to Thomas a Becket and Stephen Langton; 
but by far the most valuable for their matter, and 
the most interesting for their literary excellence, 
are those of John of Salisbury and Peter of Blois, 
which reveal to us mucii both of the political and 
the scholastic history of the latter half of the twelfth 
century. The letters of ROBERT Grosseteste 
have been edited by Mr. Luard, 1861 ; and the works 



Chap. I.] 



ANGLO-NORMAN LITERATURE. 



31 



of John of Salii jury are thoroughly analyzed in 
the monograph «f Dr. Schaarschinidt, Leipzig, 18(j2. 
5. Latiti Poeti y was cultivated as an elegant ac- 
complishment bf the men of learning, as Lawrence 
of Durham, Henry of Huntingdon, John of Salis- 
bury, John de Hauteville, and others. But a more 
natural, though irregular school was formed under 
the influence of the minstrels, the application of 
whose accentual system of verse to Latin, in defiance 
of quantity, gave rise to the Leonitie Verse, which 
was used for epigrams, satires, and also for the 
hymns of the Church. The term Leonine describes 
specifically verses rhymed as well as accentual; but 
both forms are common. Leonine verse was natu- 
ralized in Europe by the end of the eleventh century. 
It was applied to hymnology by St. Bernard, St. 
Thomas Aquinas, and Pope Innocent III. ; and 
every one is familiar with some of the finest of 
these hymns, as the Dies Irse and Stahat Hater. 
(See the Hymni Ecclesix, Oxon. 18.38. A curious 
instance of its use in England is furnished by the 
epitaph on Bede, the first line of which 

" Contiuet htec theca Beds venerabilis ossa," 
was transformed by later ingenuity into 

" Continet hac fossa Bedw venerabilis ossa." 
A further stage of license is seen in the frivolous 
itacaronic Poetry, which abounds not only in 
Latin words of the strangest formation, but in mix- 
tures of diflerent languages, as in the following 
example, in Latin, French, and English, belonging 
to the early part of Edward II.'s reign (Marsh, 
p.247):- 

" Quant honme deit parleir, videat quae verba lo- 
qiiatur, 
Sen covent aver, ne stultior inveniatur. 
Quando quis loquitur, bote rcxoitn reste therynne, 
Derisum patitur, aut lutcl so shall he wynne; — 

and so on. " This confusion of tongues," adds Mr. 
Marsh, "led very naturally to the co^rniption of 
tliem all, and consequently none of them were 
written or spoken as correctly as at the periad when 
they were kept distinct." 

But the LeoniuCj as indeed also the regular verse. 
Was chiefly used for satire, especially by the secular 
clergy and by laymen against the regular clergy 
Bud the vices of the age. Here is one example : — 

" Mille annis jam peractis 
Nulla tides est in pactis; 
Mel in ore, verba lactis, 
Fel in corde, fraus in factis." 

It was employed also for all manner of light and 
popular pieces. The earliest known writer in this 
atyle was Hilaeius, a disciple of Abelard, and 
irobably an Englishman, who flourished about 
A. D. 1125. A mass of such poetry, probably by 
/arious writers, is ascribed to Waltek JMapes, or 
Map, Archdeacon of Oxford under Henry II., 
under the general title of Confessio Goliai, — Golias 
being the type of loose livers, especiafly among the 
clergy. Map also wrote in regular Latin verse, and 
in prose De Nugis Curialium. He was an author, 
too, in Anglo-Norman poetry and prose, chiefly on 
the legends of Arthur. Altogether he seems to have 
been one of the most active minds of the age. 

The regular Latin writers were up in arms against 
the Leonines. ,Geoffee¥ Vinsauf, already no- 
ticed as a chronicler, addressed to Pope Innocent 
HL a regular poem, De Nova toetria, of great 



merit, and containing interesting allusions to con- 
temporary history. His overstrained lament for 
Richard's death is satirized by Chaucer even while 
addressing him as 

" O Gaufride, dear maister soverain." 

One of the last and best examples of the regular 
Latin poetry is the work of JoSEPiius I8CA^'^S 
(Joseph of Exeter, d. about A. D, 1210) De Bello 
Trojano, which was so popular as to be used in 
schools with the classic poets. He also wrote a 
Latin poem entitled Antiocheis, on Richard's ex- 
pedition to Palestine. But the whole style was 
doomed to extinction before a more vigorous rival 
than the Leonines — the vernacular poetry which 
sprang up in imitation of the French minstrelsy — 
and it had almost disappeared by the middle of the 
thirteenth century. 

n. The Anglo-Nokaian Fkench Litera- 
TUKE was, as already observed, chiefly in poetry, 
and the production of lavmen, whether the pro- 
fessional minstrels, or knights and even kings, who 
deemed it a gentlemanly accomplishment to sing as 
well as act the deeds of chivalry. RicnAKD CCEUB 
DE Lion (d. A. D. 1190) was the type of the latter 
class; and the style he cultivated and patronized 
was that of the Troubadors (see the text). Every 
one knows the legend of the discovery of the place 
of his captivity by his tenson with the minstrel 
Blondel, and his sirvente against his barons, com- 
posed in prison, has come down to us with a few 
other fragments.* (See the great work of Ray- 
nouard on Provencal Poetry). But the great mass 
of the poetry which the Normans brought in was 
that of the Trouveres. It may be .arranged in fom* 
classes:— (1.) Bomances, relating chiefly to these 
four cycles of legends:— CViarZenta&ne and his 
Paladins, of whom the Norman minstrel Taillefer 
is said to have sung at Hastings ; f Ai-thur and his 
Knights, founded on the legends of Wales and Brit- 
tany; Coeur de Lion, his exploits and snft'erings; 
and Alexander of Macedon, the chief poem of this 
cycle (the Alexandre'is, A. D. 1184) giving its name 
to i\xQ Alexandrine Verse;— {2.) The Fabliaux, or 
Metrical Tales of Real Life, often derived from the 
East; — (3.) Satires, of which the Esopian fable 
was a common form, as in that tale common to 
Europe, Reynard the Fox; and (4.) The Metrical 
Chronicles. Of these last a most important exam- 
ple is the Brvt d' Angleterre of Wace (d. after 
A. D. 1171), who also wrote, in French, the Roman 
de Rou (Romu7tce of Rollo). His Brut, borrowed 
from Geoffrey of Monmouth, became the source of 
the Brut of Layamon (see below). Though this 
French poetry is of great importance in our litera- 
ture, as it furnished both subjects and models for 
later English poets, there are few of its writers 
whose names require special mention. We have 
religious and moral poems in French of a very 
early date ; and the universally accomplished ROB- 
EBT Geosseteste, Bishop of Lincoln, wrote in 
this as well as other styles. Geoffeey PE Ytn- 
SAur composed metrical chronicles in French as 
well as Latin ; and he had a rival in Benoit DE 

* The sirvente was a piece for one performer, the 
teiwon a duet between two. 

t There is a question, however, whether his song 
wat; of the Paladin Roland, or of RoUo, the founder 
of <he Norman line. 



32 



NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 



[Chap. I. 



St. Matte (fl. A. D. U80), author of tlie Romance 
of Troy and Chronicle of the Dukes of Normnndy. 
Geoffbey Gaimak (about A. D. 11-18) wrote a 
Chronicle of the Anglo-Saxon Kings. TilOGOLD 
-was the author of the Roman de Roland, and a 
Roman d' Alexandre \s ascribed to TnOMAS OF 
Kent, who is variously placed in the twelfth and 
fourteenth centuries. The Roman de la Rose, imi- 
tated by Chaucer, is the earliest French work of 
tlie thirteenth century. Other favorite romances 
were Havelok tlie Dane, the Gest of King Hoi-n, 
Bevis of Ilamjiton, and Ovy of Warwick. Most of 
the authors of these works were native Englishmen, 
though they wrote in French, which had become 
ahuost the sole vehicle of popular literature. 

The Prose Versions of the Romances in Norman 
French were written chiefly by Englishmen. The 
most important series was farmed by those of 
Arthur, containing the Roman de St. Oraal (or 
Holy Cup), the Roman de Merlin, the Roman de 
Lancelot, the Quite du St. Graal, and the Roman 
de la Mort Arthus ; with a sequel, in two parts, the 
Roman de Tristan {or Tristrcm). The chief writer 
■was Walter Mates (alt-eady mentioned); but 
the St. Oraal, Merlin, and second part of Tristan, 
•were by ROBEKT DE Bakkon, and the first part of 
the TrUtan by LtJCES de Gast. 

A digest of these romances, made by Sir Thos. 
Malory, who was alive under Edward FV., has been 
edited by Mr. Wright, from the last black-letter 
edition of 16.'34, under the title of " La Mort d'Ar- 
thure. The History of King Arthur and the 
Knights of the Round Table," London, 1858. 

Excepting some versions of portions of Scripture, 
these are the only important works in Anglo-Nor- 
man prose, till we come to the grand Chronicle of 
Sire Jean Froissaet, the liveliest picture which 
an imaginative historian ever drew of events wit- 
nessed for the most part by himself. Froissart was 
bom at Valenciennes about A. D. 1337, but his 
Chronicle extends over the whole reigns of Edward 
III. and Richard II. (A. D. 1326-1400). He was 
also a great poet, and on his last vi&it to England 
(1^!) he presented his poetical works to Xing 
Bichard n. 

C — SEMI-SAXON LrrERATURE. 
A. D. 1150-12.50. 
The end of the Saxon Clironicle marks the close 
of the old Anglo-Saxon Language, as well as Liter- 
eture ; for the chronicler does not throw down his 
pen before he has begun to confuse his grammar 
and to corrupt his vocabulary with French words. 
The language dies out in literature, to appear again 
as almost a new creation, the basis of our English, 
but not at first in a finished form. The state of 
transition occupies two eentunes, fVom about the 
accession of Henry II. (ll.'H) to the middle of the 
reign of Edward III. (1350), when Chaucer rose. 
The compositions of this age can hardly be divided 
by any clear line of demarcation ; but tlie first of 
the two centuries, to the middle of Henry III.'s 
reigii, may be conveniently assigned to the Semi- 
Saxon period, the second to the Old English. The 
writers in both dialects were for the most part 
translators and imitators of the Norman poets; and 
their works may be assigned to the same four heads. 
There are, however, a few more original fragments, 



such as the Song of Canute, as he rowed past Ely, 
recorded by the monk of Ely, who wrote about 
A. D. 1166; the Hymn of ST. GOOKIO (d. A. D. 
1170), and the Prophecy, said by various chroni- 
clers to have been set up at Here (A. D. 1189). But 
three chief works may be chosen as most character- 
istic of the language of the Serai-Saxon period. 

(1.) Lat.VMON'B Brut, ot Chronicle of Britain, of 
which there are two texts, one much earlier than 
the other. The title of " the English Ennius," for- 
merly applied to Robert of Gloucester, may now 
fairly be transferred to Layamon. He tells us tliat 
he was a priest of Ernley, near Redstone, on the 
Severn (probably Lower Arley), and that he com- 
piled his work partly from a book in English by 
St. Bede, which can only mean the translation of the 
Historia Ecclesiastica ascribed to Alfred, partly 
from one in Latin by St. Albin and Austin, and 
partly from one made by a FreacJi clerk, named 
Wace, and presented to Eleanor, queen of Henry 
II. He seems, however, to have followed only Bede 
in the story of Pope Gregory and the English slaves 
at Rome ; his second authority appears to be but a 
confused reference to the Latin text of the Historia 
Ecclesiastica; and his work was really founded 
upon the Brut of Wace, already noticed. This he 
amplified from 15,300 lines to 32,250, partly by para- 
phrasing, partly by inserting speeches and other 
compositions, such as the Dream of Arthur, which 
show much imaginative power, and partly bj' the 
addition of many legends, from Welsh and other 
sources not used by Geofi'rey of Monmouth, lie 
makes several allusions to works in English which 
are nov/ lost. The date of the completion of the 
work, usually assigned to the latter years of Henry 
II., should probably be brought below A. D. 1200, 
after John's accession. The style of the work beara 
witness to Norman influence, both in the structure 
of the verse and the manner of the narrative, but 
not nearly so much as might have been expected 
from the translator of a French original. The 
earlier text has not fifty words of French origin, 
and both texts only about ninety. " We find pre- 
served," says Sir F. Madden, " in many passages 
of Lay anion's poem the spirit and stjdeof the earlier 
Anglo-Saxon writers. No one can read his de- 
scription of battles without being reminded of the 
Ode on Atlirelstan's victory at Brunanburgh." At^er 
noticing resemblances in grammar and languages, 
he adds, " A foreign scholar and poet (Gmndtvig), 
versed both in Anglo-Saxon and Scandinavian 
literature, has found Layamon's beyond compar- 
ison the most lofty and animated in its style, at 
every moment reminding the reader of the splendid 
phraseology of jVnglo-Saxon verse. It may also be 
added, that the colloquial character of much of the 
work renders it pccidiarly valuable as a monument 
of the language, since it serves to convey to us, in aU 
probability, the current speech of the writer's time." 
{Preface, pp. xxiii., xxiv.) His verse also retains 
the alliterative structure of the Anglo-Saxon poetry, 
mingled with the rhyming couplets of the French 
the former predominating. Besides alliteration, 
which consists in the sameness of initial consonants, 
Layamon uses the kindred de^'ice of assonance, 
that is, the concurrence of syllables containing the 
same vowel. The rhyming couplets are founded 
(as Dr. Guest has shown, Bister^/ of EngUsh 



Chap. I.] 



OLD ENGLISH LITERATURE. 



33 



Rhythms, vol. ii., pp. 114 foil.) on the Anglo-Saxon 
rhythms of four, five, six, or seven accents, those 
of five and six being the most frequent. The ira- 
portaat bearing of Layanion's dialect on the history 
of the formation of the English language is fully 
discussed by Sir F. Madden {/'re/ace, pp. xxv.- 
xxviii.), who concludes that " the dialects of the 
•western, southern, and midland counties contrib- 
uted together to form the language of the twelfth 
and thirteenth centuries, and conseciuently to lay 
the foundation of modern English. To the histor- 
ical student the work is important as the last and 
fullest form of the old Celtic traditions concerning 
early British history. (Layamon's Brut, !fc., with 
a Literal Translation, Xotes, and a Grammatical 
Glossary. By Sir Frederick Jladden, K. H. Pub- 
lished by the Soc. of Ant., 3 vols., 1847.) 

(2.) 17ie Ancren Riwle (the Rule of Female 
Anchorites, i. e. Nuns) a code of monastic precepts, 
drawn up in prose by an unknown author, about 
the end of the twelfth century or beginning of the 
thirteenth, and edited for the Camden Society by 
the Rev. James Morton, 1853, is also most valuable 
for the history of our language. Its proportion of 
French words is about four times tliat of Layanion ; 
the English is rude and the spelling uncouth. 

(3.) The Onmilum is so called by its author after 
his own name, OiiM or Orjiin. It was a series of 
homilies in verse on the Lessons from the New 
Testament in the Church Service, on an immense 
scale. The extant portion contains nearly 10,000 
liues (or rather couplets) of fifteen syllables, only 
ditfering from tlie "conunon service metre" by 
ending with an unaccented syllable, and entirely 
free from the Anglo-Saxon alliteration. Apart 
from tlie peculiar system of spelling, to which the 
autlior attaches great importance, and which de- 
serves study, its language dift'ers far less than Laya- 
mon's from the English of the present day. Written 
in the east or north-east (perhaps near Peterborough) 
the Ormulum occupies in the Anglian literature a 
place answering to that of the Brut in the Saxon; 
and it tends to prove that the former dialect was 
the first to throw oft the old inflections. The work 
only exists in one MS. (in the Bodleian Library), 
which is thought to be the autograph; its hand- 
writing, ink, and material, seem to assign it to the 
earlier part of the thirteenth century. The charac- 
ter of the language, and tlie regular rliythm of the 
verse, however, lead some to place it decidedly 
after the middle of tlie thirteenth century, and 
therefore in the Old English period. 

The versification seems to be modelled on the 
contemporary Latin poetry. The language has a 
Buiall admixtuie of Latin ecclesiastical words, with 
scarcely a trace of Norman French. " I am much 
disposed to believe," says Mr. Marsh {Origin and 
History, Sre., p. 179), "that the spelling of the 
Onnulum constitutes as faithful a representation of 
tlie oral English of its time as any one work could 
be at a period of great confusion of speech." The 
work has been edited with Notes and a Glossary, by 
R. M. White, D. D., 2 vols., Oxf. 18o2. 

Other works in Semi-Saxon that have been 
printed are the Homily of St. Edmund, in Thorpe's 
A II akcta, the Bestiary and /'/•orerfts falsely ascribed 
to King Alfred, in the Reliquiie Antiqiue, the Ad- 
dress ofx.he Haul to the Body, printed by Sir Thomas 



Phillipps in 1838, and reprinted by Mr. Singer, iu 
1845; and the Legend of St. Caihaiine, edited by 
iVIr. Alortou for the Abbotsford Club, in 1841. 

D. — OLD ENGLISH LITERATURE. 
A. D. 1250-1350. 

By the middle of the reign of Henry IU. the lan- 
guage finally lost those inflectional and other pecu- 
liarities which distinguish the Anglo-Saxon frum 
the English; but it retains archaisms which suf- 
ficiently distinguish it from the language of the 
present day to justify the title of Old English. 

Some regard the short proclamation of Henry 
m., in A. D. 1258, as the earliest monument of Old 
English, while others consider it as Semi-Saxoa. 
It is printed and fully discussed by Marsh ( Origin 
and History, Sfc, pp. 189, foil.). The Siirtees I'salter 
stands also on the line dividing the two periods, 
being probably not later than A. D. 1250. 

Among the chief literary works of this period is 
the metrical Chronicle of ROBEET OF Gl.OUCES- 
TEE, from the legendary age of Brutus to the close 
of Henry III.'s reign. Tlie latter part, at all events, 
must have been written after A. D. 1297. The ear- 
lier part closely follows GeoftVey of Jlonmouth; 
but the old prose clironicler is more truly poeti-jal 
than his metrical imitator. The verse is the long 
line (or couplet) of fourteen syllables, divisible into 
eight and six; its movement is rough and inhar- 
monious. The Chronicle was printed from incor- 
rect MSS., by Hearne, 2 vols. 8vo., Oxou., 1724; and 
this edition was reprinted in London, 1810. Short 
works by Robert of Gloucester, on the Martyrdom 
of Thomas a Beci.et and the Life of St. Brandan, 
were printed by the Percy Society in 1845. A col- 
lection of Lives of the Saints is also attributed to 
this author, whose works, though of small literary 
merit, are valuable for the light they throw on the 
progress of the English language. 

On a still larger scale is the metrical chronicle of 
Robert Manmtsg, or Robeet ok Beu^xe, the 
last considerable work of the Old English period. 
It is in two parts. The first, translated from the 
Brut of Wace, reaches to the death of Cadwallader; 
the second, ft-om the Anglo-Norman of Peter do 
Langtoft, comes down to the death of Edward I. 
(A. D. i;307). The second part only has been pub- 
lished, with the editions of Robert of Gloucester 
mentioned above. The work is evidently an imita- 
tion of Robert's, and of about ecjual literary merit. 
The language is a step nearer to modern English, 
the most important changes being the use of s for 
th in the third person singular, and the introduction 
of nearly the present forms of the feminine personal 
pronoun. The verse is smoother than that of Rob- 
ert of Gloucester. The first part is in the eight- 
syllable line of Wace; the second is partly in tlip 
same metre, and partly in the Alexandrine, the 
heroic measure of the age. 

Far more interesting in themselves are the popular 
poems of this age, translated or imitated tor tho 
most part from the French, and belonging to the 
same classes of Romances, Fabliaux, and Satires. 
But there are some ballads and songs of genui:ia 
native origin, as early as the middle of the thir- 
teenth century. Such are the story of the Norfolk 
peasant-boy, [Villy Orice ; the song beginning 
"Sumer is i-cunien iu," the oldest to which th« 



u 



NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 



[Chap. I. 



notes are added, and many of the pieces (including 
political ballads) printed by Warton, Percy, Ritson, 
and Wriglit 

One of the most pleasing of these poems is the 
Owl and Nightingale, a dispute between the two 
birds about their powers of song, consisting of 
about 1800 verses in rhymed octosyllabic metre. 

The satirical poem, called the Land of Cockapne, 
■which Warton placed before the reign of Henry 11., 
is at least as late as A. D. 1300, and is clearly traced 
to a French original. It is somewhat doubtfully 
ascribed, with other poems, to BIiCHAEL OF KiL- 
DAKE, the first Irishman who wrote verses in Eng- 
lish. It is a satire upon the monks. That the 
Jlletrical Romances should have been translated 
from the French, is a natural result of the fact, that 
French was the language of popular literatiu-e for 
some generations after the Conquest. Many of the 
legends were, indeed, British and Anglo-Saxon; 
but this may be accounted for by the affinity of the 
Britons and Armoricans, and the close connection 
between the Norman and the later Anglo-Saxon 
kings. Nor is it probable that the Trouvhrea should 
have missed many of these legends. Their poetry 
at first amused the leisure and enlivened the ban- 
qi»ets of the conquerors; but, as the two races 
became one, and as the Anglo-Saxon tongue died 
out, they began to be translated into the new- 
formed language of the English people. The most 
popular of these, such as Havelok, Sir Tnstram, 
Sir Gawaine, Kyng Horn, King Alesaunder, and 
Kichard Ccettr de Lion, may be referred to the 
beginning of Edward I.'s reign. They are fol- 
lowed by a series of poems by unknown authors, 
far too numerous to mention, down to and consid- 
erably below the age of Chaucer, many of which 
■re printed in the collections mentioned below. 
The change, by which these English Metrical 
Bomances superseded tbe French originals, msy be 



referred to the fourteenth century. In the fifteenth 
their popularity, besides being divided with the 
prose romances, yielded, at least among the educated 
classes, to the regular poetry of Chaucer and his 
school ; but they only ceased to be generally written 
after the beginning of the sixteenth. It was not till 
three hundred years later that Sir Walter Scott re- 
vived the taste for a kind of poetry, similar in form, 
but appealing to very different sentiments. Among 
the Minor I'oems, other than Romances, are many 
imitations of the French Fabliniuc, or Tales of 
Common Life. The Satires, both political and 
ecclesiastical, undoubtedly helped the progress of 
freedom under Henry III. and his successors, and 
prepared the way for Wicklift'e, if they do not 
rather exhibit a state of popular feeling demanding 
such a teacher. 

The chief authorities for these four periods are 
Wright, Biographia Britannica Literaria. Vol. I. 
The Anglo-Saxon I'eriod, Lond. 1842; Vol. II. 
The Anglo-Norman Period, Lond. 1816; Percy, 
Beliqties of Ancient English Poetry, first published 
in 1765; Warton, History of English Poetry, 1774, 
edited by Price, 3 vols. 8vo., Lond. 1840; Tyr- 
whitt, Chaticer's Canterbury Tales, with Prelimina- 
ry Essays, 1775 ; Pinkerton, Scottish Poems, 3 vols. 
1792; Herbert, Robert the Devylle, 1798; Ritson, 
Ancient Songs, and other collections ; Ellis, George, 
Specimens of Early English Metrical Romance*, 
3 vols. 8vo. 1805; Wright, Political Songs of Eng- 
land {rom John to Edward II., 18;39; the publica- 
tions of the Roxburghe Club, the Baunatyne, 
Maitland, Abbotsford, and Camden Societies, the 
Society of Antiquaries, &c. ; Chambers, Cyclopaedia 
of English Literature ; Craik, History of Englif/i 
Literature and the English Language, 2 vols., 1861; 
Marsh, Orig'n and History of the English Lan- 
guage, 1862. 



A. D. 1350.] THE AGE OF CHAUCER, 35 



CHAPTER II. 
THE' AGE OF CHAUCER. A. D. 1350 — A. D. 1400. 

§ 1. The fourteentli century a great period of transition — Chancer, the type of 
his age. § 2. His literary predecessors, especially Goaver. 6 3. Influence of 
WiCLiFFE. §4. Chaucer: his personal history, character, and appearance. 
§ 5. Two periods in his literary career, corresponding to the Romantic and 
Renaissance tendencies. The religious element : his relations to Wicliffe. 
§ 6. Critical survey of his works. Of the Romantic type : — (i.) Romaunt of 
the Rose; (ii.) Court of Love; (iii.) Assembli/ of Fotvls ; (iv.) Cuckow and 
Nightingale ; (v.) The Flower and the Leaf ; (vi.) Chaucer'' s Dream ; (vii.) Boke 
of the Duchesse ; (viii.) House of Fame. Of the Renaissance type ; (ix.) The 
Legende of Good WSnen ; (x.) Troilus and Cresseide. ^ 7. The Canterbury 

• Tales ; the Prologue and Portrait Gallery. § 8. Plan incomplete. The 
existing Tales ; their arrangement, metrical forms, and sources. § 9. Critical 
examination of the chief Tales, in their two classes, serious and humorous. 
The two prose Tales. ^ 10. Chaucer's services to the English language. 

§ 1. The fourteenth century is the most important epoch in the 
intellectual history of Europe. It is the point of contact between two 
"widely-diftering eras in the social, religious, and political annals of our 
race ; the slack water between the ebb of Feudalism and Chivalry, and 
the "young flood " of the Revival of Letters and the great Protestant 
Reformation. As in the long bright nights of the Arctic summer, the 
glow of the setting sun melts imperceptibly into the redness of the 
dawning, so do the last brilliant splendors of the feudal institutions 
and the chivalric literature transfuse themselves, at this momentous 
period, into the glories of that great intellectual movement which has 
given birth to modern art, letters, and science. Of this great transform- 
ation the personal career, no less than the works, of the first great Eng- 
lish poet, Chaucer, will furnish us with themost exact type and expres- 
sion ; for, like all men of the^iighest order of genius, he at once followed 
and directed the intellectual tendencies of his age, and is himself the 
" abstract and brief chronicle " of the spirit of his time. Dante is not 
more emphatically the representative of the moral, religious, and 
political ideas of Italy, than Chaucer of English literature. He was, 
indeed, an epitome of the time in which he lived ; a time when chivahy, 
about to perish forever as a political institution, was giving forth its 
last and most dazzling rays, " and, like the sun, looked larger at its 
setting; " when the magnificent court of Edward III. had carried the 
splendor of that system to the height of its development; and when the 
victories of Sluys, of Crecy, and Poitiers, by exciting the national pride, 
tended to consummate the fusion into one vigorous nationality of the 
two elements which formed the English people and the English lat- 
guage. It was these triumphs that gave to the English character 't 



36 TUE AGE OF CUAUCER. [Chap. 11. 

peculiar insularity; and made the Englishman, whether knight or 
yeoman, regard himself as the member of a separate and superior race, 
enjoying a higher degree of liberty and a more solid material welfare 
than existed among the neighboring continental monarchies. The 
literature, too, abundant in quantity, if not remarkable for much origi- 
nality of form, was rapidly taking a purely English tone ; the rhyming 
chronicles and legendary romances were either translated into, or 
originally composed in, the vernacular language. 

§ 2. Thus, among the predecessors of Chaucer, the literary stars 
that heralded the splendid dawning of our national poetry, Richard 
Rolle, Laurence Minot, and the remarkable satirist Langlande in South 
Britain, and Barbour, Wyntoun, and Blind Harry in Scotland, all show 
evident traces of a purely English spirit.* The immediate poetical 
predecessor of Chaucer, however, was undeniably Gower, whose 
interminable productions, half moral, half narrative, and with a con- 
siderable infusion of the scholastic theology of the day, though they 
certainly will terrify a modern reader by their tiresome monotony and 
the absence of originality, rendered inestimable services to the infanlT 
literature, by giving regularity, polish, and harmony to the language. 
Indeed, the style and diction of Gower is surprisingly free from difficult 
and obsolete expressions ; his versification is extremely regular, and he 
runs on in a full and flowing, if commonplace and unpoetical, stream 
of disquisition. It is very curious, as an example of the contemporary 
existence of the French, the Latin, and the vernacular literature at this 
period in England, that the three parts of Gower's immense work 
siiould have been composed in three ditTerent languages : the Vox Cla- 
iiiantis in Latin, the Speculum Meditantis in Norman-French, and the 
Confessio Amantis in English. f 

§ 3. In endeavoring to form an idea of the intellectual situation of 
England in the fourteenth centurj^, we must by no means leave out of 
the account the vast influence exerted by the preaching of Wiclilfe, and 
the mortal blow struck by him against the foundations of Catholic 
supremacy in England. This, together with the general hostility 
excited by the intolerable corruptions of the monastic orders, which 
had gradually invaded the rights, the functions, and the possessions of 
the far more practically-useful working or parochial clergy, still further 
intensified that inquiring spirit which prompted the people to refuse 
obedience to the temporal as well as spiritual authority of the Roman 
See, and paved the way for an ultimate rejection of the Papal yoke. 
Much influence must also be attributed to Wiclifte's translation of the 
Bible into the English language, and to the gradual employment of that 
idiom in the services of the church, towards the perfecting and regu- 
lating of the English language ; an influence similar in kind to the 
settlement of the German language by Luther's version of the same 
holy book, though, perhaps, less powerful in degree ; for in the latter case 

* For an account of Chaucer's predecessors, see Notes and Illustrations (A), 
t For a fuller account of Gower, see Notes and Illustrutious (B). 



A. D. I350.] THE AGE OF CHAUCER. 37 

the reading class in Germany must have been more numerous than in 
the England of the fourteenth century.* 

§ 4. Geoffrey Ghaucer was born in 1328. and his long and active 
life extended till the 25th of October, 1400. Consequently the poet's 
career almost coincides, in its commencement, with the splendid admin- 
istration of Edward III. ; and comprehends also the short and disastrous 
reign of Richard II., whose assassination preceded the poet's death by 
only a few months. In the brilliant court of Edward, in the gay and 
fantastic tournej', as well as in the sterner contests of actual warfare, 
the poet appears to have played no insignificant part. He is supposed 
to have been sprung of wealthy, though not illustrious parentage, and 
must have been of gentle blood ; his surname, which is the French 
Ckaussier^ evidently pointing at a continental — at that period equiv- 
alent, in a certain degree, to an aristocratic — origin. Besides this, we 
have distinct proof, not only in the fact of his having been " armed a 
knight" (which is shown by his evidence in the disputed cause of the 
Scrope and Grosvenor arms), but also in the honorable posts which he 
held, that Chaucer must have belonged to the higher sphere of societj^ 
His marriage, too, with Philippa de Roet, a lady of Poitevin birth, 
the daughter of a knight, and one of the maids of honor in attendance 
upon Queen Philippa, would still further tend to confirm this sup- 
position. 

Though but little credit is due to the details set forth in the ordinary 
biographies of the poet, I will condense into a rapid sketch such as are 
best established ; for every trait is interesting that helps us to realize 
the individual existence of so illustrious a man. 

The inscription upon his tomb in Westminster Abbey, which still 
exists, though the recumbent Gothic statue of the poet, originally a 
portrait, has become unhappily so defaced that even the details of the 
dress are no longer distinguishable, fixes the period of his birth in 
1328, and that of his death in 1400. This tomb, however, was not 
erected till 1556, by Mr. Nicholas Brigham, probably an admirer of his 
genius. Chaucer calls himself a Lo7idenols or Londener in the Testa- 
me?it of Love. In his Court of Love he speaks of himself under the 
name and character of " Philogenet — of Cajiibridge, Clerk; " but this 
hardly proves that he was educated at Cambridge. According to an 
authentic record, he was taken prisoner in 1359 by the French at the 
siege of Rhetiers, and being ransomed, according to the custom of those 
times, was enabled to return to England, in 1360. 

His marriage with Philippa de Roet, which took place in 1367, may 
have brought him more under the notice of the court ; for in 1367 we 
find him named one of the " valets of the king's chamber," and writs 
are addressed to him under the then honorable designation " dilectus 
valettus noster." His official car^^r appears to have been active and 
even distinguished : he enjoyed during a long period various profitable 
ofiices connected with the customs, having been comptroller of the 

* For an account of WiclifFe and Ills school, see Notes and Illiistratijns (C). 
4 



38 THE AGE OF CHAUCER. [Chap. IL 

important revenue arising from the large importation of Bordeaux and 
Gascon wines in"to the port of London; and he seems also to have 
been occasionally employed in diplomatic negotiations. Thus, he was 
joined with two citizens of Genoa in a commission to Italy in 1373, on 
which occasion he is supposed to have made the acquaintance of 
Petrarch, then the most illustrious man of letters in Europe. Partly 
in consequence of his marriage with Philippa de Roet, whose sister, 
Catherine Swynford, was first the mistress and afterwards the wife of 
John of Gaunt, and partly perhaps from sharing in some of the political 
and religious opinions of that powerful prince, Chaucer was identified 
to a considerable degree both with the household and party of the 
duke of Lancaster; and the death of the duchess Blanche in 1369 is 
believed to have suggested to him the subject of his Boke of the 
Vuckesse, and the Complaynte of the Blacke Knyght. One of the most 
interesting particulars of his life was his election as representative for 
Kent in the parliament of 1386, which was dissolved in December of 
the same year. 

The year 1382 was the signal for a great and unfavorable change ir, 
the poet's fortunes. In consequence of the active part taken by him in 
the struggle between the court and the city of London,, on occasion of 
the re-election of John of Northampton to the mayoralty, Chaucer fell 
into disgrace and difliculty, and was exposed to serious persecution, 
and even imprisoned in the Tower, whence he is said to have attained 
his liberation only on condition of accusing and denouncing his asso- 
ciates. This imprisonment lasted three years ; and in addition to 
heavy fines and the loss of his offices, the poet underwent a severe 
domestic calamity in the death of his wife, in 1387. The catastrophe 
in his aflfairs to which we have alluded was, however, followed by a 
partial restoration to favor; for in 1390 he was appointed to the office of 
clerk of the king's works, which he held for only about a year; and 
there is reason to believe that, though his pecuniary circumstances 
must have been, during a great part of his life, proportionable to the 
position he occupied in the state and in society, his last days were 
more or less clouded by embarrassment. It is with regret that we are 
obliged to abandon the supposition, founded on insufficient evidence, 
of his having resided, during the latter part of his life, at Donnington 
Castle. It is more probable that the close of his career was passed at 
Woodstock, where a house was long shown as having been the poet's 
residence. His death took place at Westminster, and the house in 
which this event occurred was afterwards removed to make room for 
the chapel of Henry VII. 

If we may judge from an ancient and probably authentip portrait 
of Chaucer, attributed to his contemporary and fellow-poet, Occleve, 
as well as from a curious and beautiful miniature introduced, according 
to the fashion of those times, into one of the most valuable manu- 
script copies of his works, our great poet appears to have been a man 
of pleasing and acute, though somewhat meditative and abstracted 
countenance, wearing a long beai^d : and he seems to have become 



A. D. I400.] THE AGE OF CHAUCER. 39 

somewhat corpulent towards the end of his life, at which time the Can' 
terbury Tales were written. These peculiarities of personal appear- 
ance, as well as some others, g;iving indications of his manners and 
character, are also alluded to bj the poet himself in the Tales them- 
selves. When Chaucer is in his turn cal/ed upon bj the host of the 
Tabard, himself represented as a " large man," and a " faire burgess," 
to contribute his story to the amusement of the pilgrims, he is rallied 
bj honest Harry Bailey on his corpulency, as well as on his studious 
and abstracted air : — 

" "What man art thou ? " quod he, 
"Thou lokest as thou woldest fynde an hare ; 
For ever on the ground I se the stare. 
Approach nere, and loke merrily. 
Now ware you, sires, and let this man have space. 
He in the wast is shape as wel as I : 
This were a popet in an arm to embrace, 
For any womman, smal and fair of face. 
He semeth elvisch by his countenance. 
For unto no wight doth he daliaunce." 

The good-nature with which the poet receives these jokes, and the 
readiness with which he commences a new story when uncourteously 
cut short, all seem to point to the gentlemanly and sociable qualities of 
an accomplished man of the world. 

§ 5. The literary and intellectual career of Chaucer seems to divide 
itself naturally into two periods, closely corresponding with the two 
great social and political tendencies which meet in the fourteenth cen- 
tury. The earlier productions of Chaucer bear the stamp and character 
of the Chivalric, his later and more original creations of the Renais- 
sance literature. It is more than probable that the poet's visits to 
Italy, then the fountain and centre of the great literary revolution, 
brought him into contact with the works and the men by whose exam- 
ple the change in the taste of Europe was brought about. Dante, it is 
true, died before the birth of Chaucer; and though his influence as a 
poet, a theologian, and a metaphysician, may not yet have fully reached 
England, yet Chaucer must have fallen under it in some degree. There 
is a third element in the character of Chaucer's writings, besides the 
imitation of the decaying Romance and the rising Renaissance litera- 
ture, which must be taken into account by all who would form a true 
conception of his intellect; and this is the religious element. It is 
difficult to ascertain how far the poet sympathized with the bold doc- 
trines of Wicliffe, who, like himself, was favored and protected by 
John of Gaunt, fourth son of Edward III. It is, however, probable, 
that though he sympathized — as is shown by a thousand satirical 
passages in his poems — with Wicliffe's hostility to the monastic orders 
and abhorrence of thi corruptions of the clergy, and the haughty 
claims of papal supremacy, the poet did not share in the theological 
opinions of the reformer, then regarded as a dangerous heresiarch. 
Chaucer probably remained faithful to the creed of Catholicism, while 



40 THE AGE OF CHAUCER. [Chap. II. 

attacking with irresistible satire the abuses of the Catholic ecclesiastical 
administration. How intense that satire is, may be gathered from the 
conter/i^^able and odious traits which he has lavished on nearly all his 
portraits of monastic personages in the Cajiterbury Tales ; and not 
less clearly from the strong contrast he has made between the sloth, 
sensuality, and trickery of these persons, and the almost ideal per- 
fection of Christian virtue which he has associated with his Persoune, 
the only member of the secular or parochial clergy he has introduced 
into his inimitable gallery. It is by no means to be understood that 
the principal works of this great man can be ranged chronologically 
under the two strongly marked categories just specified ; or that all 
those bearing manifest traces of the Provencal spirit and forms were 
written previously, and those of the Renaissance or Italian type sub- 
sequently, to any particular epoch in the poet's life \ but only that his 
earlier productions bear a general stamp of the one, and his later of the 
other literary tendency; while the greatest and most original of all, 
the Canterbury Tales, may be placed in a class by itself. 

§ 6. A brief critical examination of Chaucer's works may serve to 
point out, however imperfectly, the boundless stores of imagination and 
pathos, of wisdom and of wit, which the father of English poetry has 
embodied in language that has never been surpassed, and seldom 
equalled, for harmony, variety, and picturesqueness. I shall reserve to 
the last the more detailed analysis of the Catiterbury Tales. On a 
rough general inspection of the longer works which compose the rather 
voluminous collection of Chaucer's poetry, it will be found that about 
eight of them are to be ascribed to a direct or indirect imitation of 
purely Romance models, while three fail naturally under the category 
of the Italian or Renaissance type. Of the former class the principal are 
the Romaunt of the Rose, the Court of Love, the Assembly of Rozvls, 
the Cuckoiv and the Nightingale, the Flower and the Leaf, Chaucer s 
Dream, the Boke of the Duchesse, and the House of Fame. Under the 
latter we must range the Legend of GoodWomeji, Troilus and Creseide<, 
Anelyda and Arcyte, and above all the Canterbury Tales. 

(i.) The Romaunt of the Rose is a translation of the famous French 
allegory Le Romaji de la Rose, which forms the earliest monvnnent of 
Fi'ench literature in the thirteenth century. The original is of inordinate 
length, containing, even in the vmfinishcd state in which it was left, 
22,000 verses, and it consists of two distinct portions, the work of two 
very different hands. It was begun by Guillaume de Lorris, who com- 
pleted about 5000 lines, and was continued after his death by the witty 
and sarcastic Jean de Meun : the former of these authors died in 1260, 
and the latter probably about 1318, which will make him nearly the 
contemporary of Dante. The portion composed by Lorris has great 
poetical merit, much invention of incident, vivid character-painting, 
and picturesque description ; the allegorical coloring of the whole, 
thoue;h wire-drawn and tedious to our modern taste, was then highly 
admii-ed, and gave the tale immense popularity. The continuation by 
Meun, though following up the allegory, diverges into a much more 



A. D. 1400.] THS AGE OF CHAUCER. 41 

satirical spirit, and abounds in what were then regarded as most auda- 
cious attacks on religion, social order, the court, and female reputation. 
Even at this distance of time it is impossible not to admire the bold- 
ness, the vivacity, and the severity of the satire. According to the 
almost universal practice of the old Romance poets, the story is put 
into the form of a dream or vision ; and the principal allegoric person- 
ages introduced, as Hate, Felony, Avarice, Sorrow, Elde, Pope-Holy, 
Poverty, Idleness, &c., are of the same kind as usually figure in the 
poetical narratives of the age. Lover, the hero, is alternately aided 
and obstructed in his undertakings, the principal of which is that of 
culling the enchanted rose which gives its name to the poem, by a 
multitude of beneficent or malignant personages, such as Bel-Accueil, 
Faux-Semblant, Danger, Male-Bouche, and Constrained-Abstinence. 
Chaucer's translation, which is in the octosyllabic Trouvere measure 
of the original, and consists of 7699 verses, comprehends the whole of 
the portion written by Lorris, together with about a sixth part of 
Meun's continuation ; the portions omitted having either never been 
translated by the English poet in consequence of his dislike of the 
immoral and anti-religious tendency of which they were accused, or 
left out by the copyist from the early English manuscripts. The trans- 
lation gives incessant proof of Chaucer's remarkable ear for metrical 
harmony, and also of his picturesque imagination ; for though in many 
places he has followed his original with scrupulous fidelity, he not 
unfrequently adds vigorous touches of his own. Thus, for example, in 
the description of the Palace of Elde, a comparison between the original 
and the translation will show us a ^ rand image entirely to be ascribed 
to the English poet : — 

Travail et Douleur la hcrbergent, With Iiir Labour and Travaile 
Mais ils la tient et enfergent, Logged ben with Sorwe and Woo, 

Et tant la batent et tormentent, That never out of hir court goo. 

Que mort prochaine li presenteut. Peyne andDistresse, Sykenesse and Ire, 

And Malencoly, that angry sire, 
Ben of hir paleys senatoures ; 
Gronyng and Grucchyng hir herbejeours, 
The day and nyght, hir to turnient, 
And tellen hir, erliche and late, 
That Deth stondith armed at hir gate. 

(ii.) The Court of Love is a work bearing, both in its form and 
spirit, strong traces of that amorous and allegorical mysticism which 
runs through all the Provencal poetry, and which seems to have been 
developed into substantive institutions in the Cours d'Amour of 
Picardy and Languedoc, whose arrets form such a curious example of 
the refining scholastic subtleties of mediaeval theology transferred to 
the fashions of chivalric society. It is written in stanzas of seven 
lines, each line being of ten syllables ; the first and third rhyming 
together, as do the second, fourth, and fifth, and again the sixth and 
seventh. It is written in the name of " Philogenet of Cambridge," 
4* 



42 TEE AGE OF CBAUCER. [Chap. II. 

clerk (or student), who is directed by Mercury to appear at the Court 
of Venus. The above designation has induced some critics to suppose 
that the poet meant under it to indicate himself, and have drawn from 
it a most unfounded supposition that Chaucer had studied at Cam- 
bridge. The poet proceeds to give a description of the Castle of Love, 
where Admetus and Alcestis preside as king and queen. Philogenet 
is then conducted by Philobone to the Temple, where he sees Venus 
and Cupid, and where the oath of allegiance and obedience to the 
twenty commandments of Love is administered to the faithful. The 
hero is then presented to the Lady Rosial, with whom, in strict accord- 
ance with Provencal poetical custom, he has become enamoured in a 
dream. We then have a description of the courtiers, two of whom. 
Golden and Leaden Love, seem to be borrowed from the Eros and 
Anteros of the Platonic philosophers. The most curious part of the 
poem is the celebration of the grand festival of Love on May-day, when 
an exact parody of the Catholic Matin service for Trinity Sunday is 
chanted by various birds in honor of the God of Love. 

(iii.) In the Assembly of Fotvls we have a poem not very dissimilar 
in form and versification to the preceding. The subject is a debate 
carried on before the Parliament of Birds to decide the claims of three 
eagles for the possession of a beautiful formel (female or hen) of the 
same species, which perches upon the wrist of Nature. The principal 
incidents of this poem were probably borrowed from ix fabliau to which 
Chaucer has alluded in another place, and the popularity of which is 
proved by the existence of several versions of the same subject, as for 
instance, Hueline et Eglaniine, Le Jtigeiytent d' Amour, and Florence 
et Blanckefor. 

(iv.) The Cuckoru and the Nightiyigale, though of no great length, 
is one of the most charming among this class of Chaucer's productions : 
it describes a controversy between the two birds, the former of which 
was among th« poets and. allegorists of the Middle Ages the emblem 
of profligate celibacy, while the Nightingale is the type of constant 
and virtuous conjugal love. In this poem we meet with a striking ex- 
ample of that exquisite sensibility to the sweetness of external nature, 
and in particular to the song of birds, which was possessed by Chaucer 
in a higher degree, perhaps, than by any other poet in the world ; as 
witness the following inimitable passage : — 

" There sat I downe among the faire floures, 
And sawe the birdes trippe out of hir boures, ♦ 

There as they rested hem alle the night ; 
They were so joyful of the dayes light, 
They began of May for to done honoures. 

They coude that service al by rote ; 
There was many a lovely note ! 
Some songe loud as they had plained, 
And some in other manner voice yfained. 
And some al cute with the fulle throte. 



A. D. i40c^] THE AGE OF CHAUCER. • 43 

They proyned hem, and maden hem right gay, 
, And daunceden and lepten on the spray 
And evermore two and two in fere, 
Right so as they had chosen hem to-yere 
In Feverere upon Saint Valentine's day. 

And the rivere that I sat upon, 
It made such a noise as it ron, 
Accordaunt with the birdes armony, 
Me thought it was the beste melody 
That mighte ben yheard of any man." 

(v.) The Floxver atid the Leaf is, like the preceding poems, ,\n 
allegory related in the form of a chivalric and pastoral adventure. A 
ladj, unable to sleep, wanders out into a forest on a spring morning — an 
opening or jnise en scefte which often recurs in poems of this age — and 
seating herself in a delicious arbor, listens to the alternate song of the 
goldfinch and the nightingale. Her reverie is suddenly interrupted by 
the approach of a band of ladies clothed in white, and garlanded with 
laurel, agnus-castus, and woodbine. These accompany their queen in 
singing a roundel, and are in their turn interrupted by the sound of 
trumpets and by the appearance of nine armed knights, followed hy a 
splendid train of cavaliers and ladies. These joust for an houi, and 
then advance to the first company, and each knight lead.<^ f. lady to a 
laurel to which they make an obeisance. Another troop of ladies now 
approach, habited in green and led by a queen, Avho do reverence to a 
tuft of flowers, while the leader sings a " bargaret," or pastoral song, 
in honor of the daisy, "si douce est la Marguerite." The sports are 
broken off, first by the heat of the sun which withers all the flowers, 
and afterwards by a violent storm of thunder and rain, in which the 
knights and ladies in green are pitifully drenched ; while the white 
company shelter themseh^es under the laurel. The queen and ladies in 
white then comfort and refresh the green band, and the whole retire to 
sup with the party of the white; the nightingale, as they pass along, 
flj'ing down from the laurel to perch upon the hand of the white queen, 
while the goldfinch settles upon the wrist of the leader of the green 
party. Then follows the explanation of the allegory : the white queen 
and her party represent Chastity; the knights the Nine Worthies; the 
cavaliers crowned with lau^el the Knights of the Round Table, the 
Peers of Charlemagne, and the Knights of the Garter, to which illus- 
trious order, then recently founded, the poet wished to pay a compli- 
ment. The queen and ladies in green represent Flora and the followers 
of sloth and idleness. In general the flower typifies vain pleasure, the 
leaf, virtue and industry; the former beii g " a thing fading with every 
blast," while the latter " abides with the root, notwithstanding the 
frosts and winter storms." The poem is written in the seven-lined 
stanza, and contains many curious and beautiful passages. 

(vi., vii.) The two poems entitled Chaucer's Dream, and the BooA- of 
the Duchess, though now found to be separate and distinct works, were 
long confounded together. This err^r was caused by the similarity of 



44 THE AGE OF CHAUCER. [Chap. II. 

their style and versification (for they are both wi-itten in the octo- 
syllabic Trouvere measure, the same as that employed in the Rojnaunt 
of the Rose), and in some degree also by the connection of their sub- 
ject with John of Gaunt, Chaucer's friend and patron, and the maiTiage 
of that nobleman with Blanche, heiress of Lancaster. This prince, 
then bearing the title of Earl of Richm^ond, was united to his cousin in 
1359, and the Duchess dying ten years after, John was married a second 
time, in 137 1, to Constance, daughter of Peter the Cruel, King of 
Spain. Both poems are allegorical; and allude, though sometimes 
rather obscurely as regards details, to the courtship of John of (jaunt, 
and his grief, under the person of the Black Knight, at the loss of his 
first wife. There may be traced in the Dream allusions to Chaucer's 
own courtship and marriage, to which we ha.ve referred in our bio- 
graphical remarks, and which took place about 1360. 

(viii.) For its extraordinary union of brilliant description with 
learning and humor, the poem of the House of Fame is sufficient of 
itself to stamp Chaucer's reputation. It is wu-itten in the Trouvere 
measure, and under the fashionable form of a dream or vision, gives 
us a vivid and striking picture of the Temple of Glory, crowded with 
aspirants for immortal renow^n, and adorned with myriad statues of ' 
great poets and historiarus, and the House of Rumor, thronged with'/' 
pilgrims, pardoners, sailors, and other retailers of wonderful reports.^ 
The Temple, though originally borrowed from the Metamorphoses of 
Ovid, exhibits in its architecture and adornment that strange mixture 
of pagan antiquity with the Gothic details of mediaeval cathedrals, 
that strikes us in the poetry and in the illuminated MSS. of the four- 
teenth century : and in the description of the statues of the great poets 
we meet with a curious proof of that mingled influence of alchemical 
and astrological theories perceptible in the science and literature of 
Chaucer's age. In richness of fancy it far surpasses Pope's imitation, 
The Temple of Fame. 

(ix.) The Legend of Good Women is supposed, from many circum- 
stances, to have been one of the latest of Chaucer's compositions, and 
to have been written as a kind of amende honorable or recantation for 
his unfavorable pictures of female character; and in particiilar for his 
having, b3^ translating the Romati de la Rose, to a certain degree identi- 
fied himself with Jean de Meun's bitter sp,rcasms on the sex. Thousrh 
the matter is closely translated, for the most part, from the Heroidcs 
of Ovid, the coloring given to the stories is entirely Catholic and 
mediaeval. The misfortunes of celebrated heroines of ancient story 
are related in the manner of the Legends of the Saints, and Dido, 
Cleopatra, and Medea are regarded as the Martyrs of 3liint Venus and 
Saint Cupid. The poet's original intention was to compose the legends 
of nineteen celebrated victims of the tender passion ; but the work 
having been left incomplete, we possess only those of Cleopatra, 
Thitbe, Dido, Hypsipyle,' Medea, Lucretia, Ariadne, Philomela, and 
Phillis.. The poem is in ten-syllable heroic couplets, the rhj-med heroic 
measure, and exhibits a consummate mastery over the resoui'ces of the 



A.D. 1400.] THE AGE OF CHAUCER. 45 

English language and prosody, and many striking passages of 'iescrip- 
tion interpolated by Chaucer. A few droll anachronisms also n.aybe 
noted, as the introduction of cannon at the Battle of Actium. '-JS 

(x.) The poem which the generations contemporary with, or suc- 
ceeding to, the age of Chaucer placed nearest to the level of the Can- 
tcrbury Tales, was unquestionably the Troilus and Creseide ; and this 
judgment will be confirmed by a comparison of the two works ; though 
the wonderful variety and humor of the Tales has tended to throw into 
the shade, for modern readers, the graver beauties of the poem we are 
now about to examine. The source from which Chaucer drew his 
materials for this work was indubitably Boccaccio's poem entitled Filos- 
trato. The story itself, which was extremely popular in the Middle 
Ages (and its popularity continued down to the time of Elizabeth, 
Shakespeare himself having dramatized it), has been traced to Guido 
di Colonna, and to the mj^sterious book entitled Trophe of the equally 
m.ysterious author Lollius, so often quoted in Chaucer's age, and 
respecting whom all is obscure and enigmatical. Some of the names 
and personages of the story, as Cryseida (Chryseis), Troilus, Pandarus, 
Diomede, and Priam, are obviously borrowed from the Iliad; but 
their relative positions and personality have been most strangely 
altered ; and the principal action of the poem, being the passionate 
love of Troilus for his cousin, her ultimate infidelity, the immoral 
subserviency of Pandarus, all of which -became proverbial in conse- 
quence of the popularity of this tale, — all details, in short, bear the 
stamp of medieval society, and have no resemblance whatever to the 
incidents and feelings of the heroic age, a period when the female sex 
w^as treated as it is now in Eastern countries, and when consequently 
that sentiment, which we call chivalric or romantic love, could have 
had no existence. Chaucer has frequently adhered to the text of the 
Filostrato, and has adopted the musical and flowing Italian stanza 
of seven lines ; but in the conduct of the story he has shown him- 
self far superior to his original, the characters of Troilus, Pandarus, 
and Creseide in the Filostrato^ contrasting very unfavorably with the 
pure, noble, and ideal personages of the English poet, whose morality, 
indeed, is far higher and more refined than that of his great Floren- 
tine contemporary. I may remark in conclusion, that this beautiful 
poem is of great length, nearly equal in this respect to the ^Eneid of 
Virgil, and that it abounds in charming descriptions, in exquisite traits 
of character, and in incidents which, though sim.ple and natural, are 
involved and developed with great ingenuity. 

§ 7. Chaucer's greatest and most original work is, beyond all com- 
parison, the Catiterbury Tales. It is in this that he has poured forth 
in inexhaustible abundance all his stores of wit, humor, pathos, splen- 
dor, and knowledge of humanity: it is this which will place him, till 
the remotest posterity, in the first rank among poets and character- 
painters. 

The exact portraiture of the manners, language, and habits of society 
in a remote ags could not fail, even if executed by an inferior hand, 



^6 THE AGE OF CUAUCER. [Chap. II. 

to possess deep interest ; as we may judge fror- the avidity with which 
we contemplate such traits of real life as are laboriously dug up by the 
patient curiosity of the antiquary from the dust and rubbish of bygone 
days. How great then is our delight when the magic force of a great 
poet evokes a whole series of our ancestors of the fourteenth century, 
making them pass before us "in their habit as they lived," acting, 
speaking, and feeling in a manner invariably true to general nature, 
and stamped with all the individuality of Shakespeare or Molicre. 
The plan of the Canterbury Tales is singularly happy, enabling the 
poet to give us, first, a collection of admirable daguerreotj^pes of the 
various classes of English society, and then to place in the mouths of 
these persons a series of separate tales highly beautiful when regarded 
as compositions and judged on their own independent merits, but 
deriving an infinitely higher interest and appropriateness from the 
way in which they harmonize with their respective narrators. The 
work can be divided into two portions, which are, however, skilfully 
mixed vip and incorporated : the first being the general prologue, de- 
scribing the occasion on which the pilgrims assemble, the portraits of 
the various members of the troop, the adventures of their journey and 
their commentaries on the tales as they are successively related : and 
the second the tales themselves, viewed as separate compositions. 

The general plan of the work may be briefly sketched as follows. 
The poet informs us, after giving a brief but picturesque description of 
spring, that being about to make a pilgrimage from London to the 
shrine of St. Thomas a Becket in the Cathedral of Canterbury, he 
passes the night previous to his departure at the hostelry of the Tabard 
in Southwark. While at the inn the hostelry is filled by a crowd of 
pilgrims bound to the same destination : — 

" In Southwerk at the Tabard as I lay, 
n Redy to wenden on my pilgrimage 

To Canterbury with ful devout corage. 
At night was come into that hostelrie 
Wei nyne and twenty in a companye * 
Of sondry folk, by aventure i-falle 
In felawschipe, and pilgryms were tliei alle, 
That toward Canterbury wolden ryde." 

The goodly company, assembled in a manner so natural in those 
times of pilgrimages and of difficult and dangerous roads, agree to travel 
in a body; and at supper the Host of the Tabard, a jolly and sociable 
personage, proposes to accompany the party and serve as a guide, 
having, as he says, often travelled the road before; and at the same 
time suggests that they may much enliven the tedium of their journev 
by relating stories as they ride. He is to be accepted by the whole 
society as a kind Cf judge or moderator, by whose decisions every one 
is to abide. As the journej to Canterbury occupies one day, and the 
return another, the plan of the whole work, had Chaucer completed it, 

* But in his subsequent enumeration (see next page) Chaucer counts thirty 
persons. 



A.D. 1400.] THE AGE OF CUAUCER. 47 

would have comprised the adventures on the outward journey, the 
arrival at Canterbury, a description, in all probability, of the splendid 
religious ceremonies and the visits to the numerous shrines and relics 
in the Cathedral, the return to London, the farewell supper at the Ta- 
bard, and dissolution of the pleasant company, which would separate 
as naturally as they had assembled. Harry Bailey proposes that each 
pilgrim should relate two tales on the journey out, and two more on 
the way home ; and that on the return of the party to London, he 
who should be adjudged to have related the best and most amusing 
story should sup at the common cost. Such is the setthig or frame- 
work in which the separate tales are inserted ; and the circumstances 
and general mise en schie are so natural and unforced, that no 
reader refuses credence to the ancient tradition of our great poet's 
having founded his work upon an actual pilgrimage to Canterburj^, 
in which he had himself taken part. The tales themselves are admi- 
rably iti accordance with the characters of the persons who relate 
them, and the remarks and criticisms to which they give rise are no 
less humorous and natural ; some of the stories suggesting others, 
just as would happen in real life under the same circumstances. The 
pilgrims are persons of all ranks and classes of society; and in the 
inimitable description of their manners, persons, dress, horses, &c., 
with which the poet has introduced them, we behold a vast and minute 
portrait gallery of the social state of England in the fourteen centurv. 
They are — (i.) A Knight; (2.) A Squire; (3.) A Yeoman, or military 
retainer of the class of the free peasants, who in the quality of an 
archer was bound to accompany his feudal lord to war ; (4.) A Prioress, 
a lady of rank, superior of a nunnery; (5, 6, 7, 8.) A Nun and three 
Priests, in attendance upon this lady; (9.) A Monk, a person repre- 
sented as handsomely dressed and equipped, and passionately fond of 
hunting and good cheer; (10.) A Friar, or Mendicant Monk; (11.) A 
Merchant; (12.) A Clerk, or Student of the University of Oxford; 
(13.) A Serjeant of the Law; (14.) A Franklin or rich country-gentle- 
man ; (15, 16, 17, 18, 19.) Five M^ealthy burgesses or tradesmen, de- 
scribed in general but vigorous and characteristic terms ; they are A 
Haberdasher, or dealer in silk and cloth, A Carpenter, A Weaver, A 
Dyer, and ATapisser, or maker of carpets and hangings ; (20.) A Cook, 
or rather what in old French is called a rdtisseur, i. e. the keeper of a 
ccok's-shop ; (21.) A Shipman, the master of a trading vessel; (22.) A 
Doctor of Physic ; (23.) A Wife of Bath, a rich cloth-manufacturer ; (24.) 
A Parson, or secular parish priest; (25.) A Ploughman, the brother of 
the preceding personage; (26.) A Miller; (27.) A Manciple, or steward 
of a college or religious house; (28.) A Reeve, bailiff or intendant of 
the estates of some wealtfiy landowner; (29.) A Sompnour, or Sumner, 
an officer in the then formidable ecclesiastical courts, whose duty was 
to summon or cite before the spiritual jurisdiction those who had of- 
fended against the canon laws; (30.) A Pardoner, or vendor of Indul- 
gences from Rome. To these thirty persons must be added Chaucel 
himself, and the Host of the Tabard, making in all thirty-two. 



48 THE AGE OF CHAUCER. [Chap. II. 

§ 8. Now, if each of these pilgrims had related four tales, viz., two 
on the journey to Canterbury, and two on their return, the work would 
have contained 128 storie's, independently of the subordinate incidents 
and conversations. In realitj-, however, the pilgrims do not arrive at 
their destination, and there are many evidences of confusion in the 
tales which Chaucer has given us, leading to the conclusion that the 
materials were not only incomplete, but left in an unarranged state by 
the poet. The stories that we possess are 25 in number, and are dis- 
tributed as follows: The Knight; The Miller; The Reeve; The Cook, 
to whom two tales are assigned ; * The Man of Law ; The Wife of Bath ; 
The Friar;" The Sompnour; The Clerk of Oxford ; The Merchant; The 
Squire, whose tale is left unfinished ; The Franklin ; The Second Nun ; 
The Canon's Yeoman — a personage who does not form a part of the 
original company, but joins the cavalcade on the journey; The Doctor; 
The Pardoner; The Shipman ; The Prioress ; Chaucer himself, to whom 
two tales are assigned in a manner to which I shall refer presently ; 
The Monk ; the Nun's Priest ; The Manciple, and the Parson. Thus it 
will be seen that many of the characters are left silent, while some of 
them relate more than one story, and two persons altogether extraneous 
are introduced. These are the Canon and his Yeoman, who unexpect- 
edly join the cavalcade during the journey; but it is uncertain whether 
this episode, which was probably an afterthought of the poet, takes 
place on the journey to or from Canterbury. The Canon, who is repre- 
sented as an Alchemist, half swindler and half dupe, is driven away 
from the company by shame at his attendant's indiscreet disclosures ; 
and the latter, remaining with the pilgrims, relates a most amusing 
story of the villanous artifices of the charlatans who pretended to pos- 
sess the Great Arcanum. The stories narrated by the pilgrims are ad- 
mirably introduced by what the author calls " prologues," consisting 
either of remarks and criticisms on the preceding tale, and which nat- 
urally suggest what is to follov/, of the incidents of the journey itself, 
an excellent example of which is the drunken uproariousness of the 
Miller and the Cook, or of the infinitely varied manner in which the 
Host proposes and the Pilgrims receive the command to perform their 
part in contributing to the common entertainment. The Tales are all 
in verse, with the exception of two, that of the Parson, and Chaucer's 
second narrative, the allegorical story of Meliboeus and his wife Patience. 
Those in verse exhibit an immense variety of metricial forms, ranging 
from the regular heroic rhymed couplet, in which the largest portion of 
the work is composed, as well as the general prologue and introductions 
to each story, through a great variety of stanzas of different lengths 
and arrangement, down to the short irregular octosyllable verse of the 
Trouvere Gestours, and — in the case of tlie Tale of Gamelyn — the 

* The first is broken off abruptly almost at the beginning, and the second is 
by some suspected not to be the work of Chaucer at all, as it is written in a style 
and versification unlike the rest of his poems, and seems to belong to an older 
and ruder period of English literature. The Cook's Tale of Gamelyn, if really 
written by Chaucer, was perhaps intended to be related on the journey home. 



A.D. I400.] THE AGE OF CHAUCER. 49 

long tonic, not syllabic, measure of the old English popular legend, 
which was itself a relic of the ancient Saxon metrical system. All these 
forms Chaucer handles with consummate ease and dexterity ; indeed, it 
may be boldly affirmed that no English poet whatever is more exqui- 
sitely melodious than he : and the nature of the versification will often 
assist us in tracing the sources from whence Chaucer derived or adapted 
his materials. Of him it maybe truly said, as Moliere affirmed of him- 
self, that " il prenait son bien ou il le trouvait," for he appears in no 
single demonstrable instance to have taken the trouble to invent the 
intrigue or subject-matter of any of his stories, but to have freely bor- 
rowed them either for the multitudinous fabliaux of the Provencal poets, 
the legends of the mediaeval chroniclers, or the immense storehouse of 
the Gesta Romanorum, and the rich treasury of the early Italian writers, 
Dante, Petrarch, and Boccaccio. 

§ 9. The Tales themselves may be roughly divided into the two great 
classes of serious, tragic, or pathetic, and comic or humorous ; in both 
stj'les Chaucer has seldom been equalled, and assuredly never surpassed. 
His wonderful power of object and character-painting, the incomparable 
conciseness and vividness of his descriptions, the loftiness of his senti- 
ment, and the intensity of his pathos, can only be paralleled by the 
richness of his humor and the outrageously droll, yet perfectly natural 
extravagance of his laughable scenes. Both in the one style and in the 
other, the peculiar naivett and sly infantine simplicity of his language 
add a charm of the subtlest kind, the reality of which is best proved by 
the evaporation of this delicate perfume in the process, so often and so 
unsuccessfully attempted, of modernizing his language. The finest of 
the elevated and pathetic stories are the Knighfs Tale — the longest of 
them all, in which is related the adventure of Palamon and«Arcite ; — 
the Squire's Tale, a wild half-Oriental story of love, chivalry, and en- 
chantment, the action of which goes on " at Sarray (Bakhtchi-Sarai) in 
the londof Tartary ; " the Alan of Laiv's Tale, the beautiful and pathetic 
story of Custance; the Prioress's Tale, the charming legend of " litel 
Hew of Lincoln," the Christian child murdered by the Jews for so per- 
severingly singing his hymn to the Virgin ; and above all the Clerk of 
Oxford's Tale, perhaps the most beautiful pathetic narration in the 
whole range of literature. This, the story of Griselda, the model and 
heroine of wifely patience and obedience, is the crown and pearl of all 
the serious and pathetic narratives, as the Knight's Tale is the master- 
piece among the descriptions of love and chivalric magnificence. 

I will rapidly note the sources from which, as far as can be ascer- 
tained at present, Chaucer derived the subjects of the narratives above 
particularized. The Knighfs Tale is freely borrowed from the Theseida 
of Boccaccio, many of the incidents of the latter being themselves taken 
from the Thebais of Statins. Though the action and personages of this 
noble story are assigned to classical antiquity, it is needless to say that 
the sentiments, manners, and feelings of the persons introduced are 
those of chivalric Europe; the "Two Noble Kinsmen," Palamon and 
Arcite, being the purest ideal types of the knightly character, and the 
5 



50 THE AGE OF CHAUCER. [Chap. II. 

decision of their claims to the hand of Emilie by a combat in champ clos^ 
an incident completely alien from the habits of the heroic age. The 
Squire's Tale bears evident marks of Oriental origin ; but v/hether it be 
a legend directly derived from Eastern literature, or received by Chau- 
cer after having filtered through a Romance versiofi, is now uncertain. 
It is equal to the preceding story in splendor and variety of incident 
and word-painting, but far inferior in depth of pathos and ideal eleva- 
tion of sentiment ; yet it was by the Squire's Tale that Milton charac- 
terized Chaucer in that inimitable passage of the Penseroso where he 
evokes the recollections of the great poet : — 

*' And call up him that left half-told 
The story of Cambuscan bold, 
Of Cambal, and of Algarsife, 
And who had Canace to wife 
That owned the virtuous ring and glass ; 
And of the wondrous horse of brass 
On which the Tartar king did ride." 

The Man of Law's Tale is taken with little variation from Gower's 
voluminous poem '•'■Confessio A7na?itis" the incidents of Gower's narra- 
tive being in their turn traceable to a multitude of romances, as for 
instance those of jEwarc, the Chevalier au Cygne, the Roman dela Vio- 
Ictte, Le Bone Florence de Rojnc, and the inexhaustible Gesta Ronia- 
norum. The character of the noble but unhappy Custance, beautiful as 
it is, is idealized almost beyond nature ; and the employment of the 
Italian stanza harmonizes well with the tender but somewhat enervated 
graces of the narrative. The legend of the " litel clergion," foully mur- 
dered by the Jews at Lincoln, and whose martyrdom is so miraculously 
attested, w£ls in all probability founded on fact, at least so far as regards 
cruel punishment having been inflicted on the Jews accused of such a 
crime. An infinity of ballads were current in England and Scotland 
on this subject, and one indeed has been preserved in Percy's Reliques 
of Ancient English Poetry, entitled " The Jewes Daughter." Moreover 
there still exists a record of the trial of some Jews for the assassina- 
tion of a Christian child at Lincoln in 1256, in the reign of Henry III. 
Though Chaucer has retained the principal incidents of the English 
legend, he has laid the scene in Asia; but many allusions to the story 
of Hugh of Lincoln prove that the fundamental action is identically the 
same. The tale is exquisitely tender and graceful in sentiment, and 
exhibits precisely that union of religious sentimentality and refinement 
which makes it so appropriate in the mouth of Madame Eglantine the 
Prioress. 

The pedigree of the most pathetic of Chaucer's stories, that of Patient 
Griselda, narrated by the clerk of Oxford, is traceable to Petrarch, who 
communicated the incidents to his friend Boccaccio. The latter has 
made them the groundwork of one of the novels of the Decameron, viz., 
the loth and last of the Tenth Day ; and there is evidence that the 
pathos of this beautiful story was found to transgress the limits of or- 
dinary endurance. The submission of Griselda to the ordeals imposed 



A.D. 1400.] TEE AGE OF CHAUCER. 51 

upon her conjugal and maternal feelings by the diabolical tyranny ot 
the Marquis of Saluzzo, her husband, seems exaggerated beyond all 
the bounds of reality. Yet we should remember that the very intensity 
of Griselda's sufferings is intended to convey the highest expression of 
the inexhaustible goodness of the female heart. 

The finest of Chaucer's comic and humorous stories are those of the 
Miller, the Reeve, the Sompnour, the Canon's Yeoman, and the Nun's 
Priest. Though all of these are excellent, the three best are the Miller's, 
the Reeve's, and the Sompnour's; and among these last it is difficult to 
give the palm of drollery, acute painting of human nature, and exqui- 
site ingenuity of incident. It is much to be regretted that the comic 
stories turn upon events of a kind which the refinement of modern 
manners renders it impossible to analyze ; but it should be remembered 
that society in Chaucer's day, though perhaps not less moral in reality, 
was far more outspoken and simple, and permitted and enjoyed allusions 
which have been proscribed by the more precise delicacj^ of later ages. 
The first of these irresistible drolleries is probably the adaptation to 
English life — for the scene is laid at Oxford — of some old fabliau ; the 
Reeve's Tale may be found in substance in the 6th novel of the Ninth 
Day of the Decameron : the Sompnour's Tale, though probably from a 
mediaeval source, has not hitherto been traced. The admirable wit, 
humor, and learning, with which in the Canon's Teoman's Tale 
Chaucer exposes the rascalities of the pretenders to alchemical knowl- 
edge, may have been derived from his own experience of the arts of 
these swindlers. The tale maybe compared with Ben Jonson's comedy 
of the Alchemist. The tale assigned to the Nun's Priest is an exceed- 
ingly humorous apologue of the Cock and the Fox, in which, though 
the dramatis personcB are animals, they are endowed with such a droll 
similitude to the human character, that the" reader enjoys at the same 
time the apparently incompatible pleasures of sj'mpathizing with them 
is human beings, and laughing at their fantastic assumption of reason 
as lower creatures. 

I have remarked, some pages back, on the circumstance of two of the 
stories being written in prose. It may be not uninteresting to investi- 
gate this exception. When Chaucer is applied to by the Host, he com- 
mences a rambling puerile romance of chivalry, entitled the Rhyme of 
Sir Thopas, which promises to be an interminable story of knight- 
errant adventures, combats with giants, dragons, and enchanters, and 
is written in the exact style and metre of the Trouvere narrative poems 
— the only instance of this versification being employed in the Canter^ 
bury Talcs. He goes on gallantly " in the stjle his books of chivalry 
had taught him," and, like Don Quixote, "imitating, as near as he 
could, their very phrase ; " but he is suddenly interrupted, with manjf 
expressions of comic disgust, by the merry host : — 

" *No mot of this, for Goddes dignite ! * 
Quod our Hoste, * for thou makest me 
So wery of thy verray lewednesse, 
That, al so wisly God my soule blesse. 



52 THE AGE OF CHAUOER. [Chap. 11. 

Myn eeres aken for thy drafty speche. 
Now such a rym the devel I byteche ! 
This may wel be rym dogerel,' quod he." 

Theie can be no doubt that the poet took this ingenious method of 
ridiculing and caricaturing the Romance poetry, which had at this time 
reached the lowest point of effeteness and commonplace. Chaucer 
then, with great good-nature and a readiness which marks the man of 
the world, offers to tell "a litel thing in prose; " and commences the 
long allegorical tale of Meliboeus and his wife Patience^ in which, 
though the matter is often tiresome enough, he shows himself as great 
a master of prose as of poetry. Indeed it would be difficult to find, an- 
terior to Hooker, any English prose so vigorous, so harmonious, and 
so free from pedantry and affectation, as that of the great Father of 
our Literature : — 

" The morning-star of song, who made 
His music heard below ; 
Dan Chaucer, the first warbler, whose sweet breath 

Preluded those melodious bursts, that fill 
The spacious times of great Elizabeth 
With sounds that echo still." 

The other prose tale is narrated by the Parson, who, being represent- 
ed as a somewhat simple and narrow-minded though pious and large- 
hearted pastor, characteristically refuses to indulge the company with 
what can only minister to vain pleasure, and proposes something that 
may tend to edification, " moralite and vertuous matiere;" and com- 
mences a long and very curious sermon on the Seven Deadly Sins, 
their causes and remedies — a most interesting specimen of the theolo- 
gical literature of the day. It is divided and subdivided with all the 
painful minuteness of scholastic divinity; but it breathes throughout a 
noble spirit of evangelical piety, and in many passages attains great 
dignity of expression. 

Besides these two Canterbury Tales, Chaucer wrote in prose a trans- 
lation of Bofithius' De Consolatione, and an imitation of that work, 
under the title of T7ie Testament of Love, and an incomplete astrolo- 
gical work. On the Astrolabe, addressed to his son Lewis in 1391. 

The general plan of the Canterbury Tales, a number of detached 
stories connected together by their being narrated by a troop of imagi- 
nary pilgrims, is similar to the method so frequently employed in the 
thirteenth and fourteenth centuries, and of which we find examples in 
the Decameron of Boccaccio, the Cent Nouvelles Nouvelles, and a multi- 
tude of similar collections of stories. The idea may have come origi- 
nally from the East, the very inartificial plan of the Thousand and One 
Nights being not altogether dissimilar, in which the stories of the in- 
exhaustible princess Dinarzadeh are inserted one within the other, like 
a set of Chinese boxes. Chaucer's plan, however, must be allowed to 
be infinitely superior to that of Boccaccio, whose ten accomplished young 
gentlemen and ladies assemble in their luxurious villa to escape from 
the terrible plague, the magnificent description of which forms the 



A.D. 1400.] TEE AGE OF CHAUCER. 53 

Introduction, and which was then, in sad reality, devastating Florence. 
Boccaccio's interlocutors being all nearly of the same age and social con- 
dition, — for thej are little else but repetitions of the graceful types of 
Dioneo and Fiammetta, — it was impossible to make their tales corre- 
spond to their characters as Chaucer's do; independently of the shock to 
the reader's sense of propriety in finding these elegant voluptuaries 
whiling away, with stories generally of very doubtful morality, the 
hours of seclusion in which they find a cowardly and selfish asylum 
during a most frightful national calamity. 

§ 10. Chaucer rendered to the language of his country a service in 
some respects analogous to that which Dante rendered to that of Italy. 
He harmonized, regulated, and made popular the still discordant ele- 
ments of the national speech. The difficulty of reading and under- 
standing him has been much exaggerated : the principal rule that the 
student should keep in mind is that the French words, so abundant in 
his writings, had not yet been so modified, by changes in their orthog- 
raphy and pronunciation^ as to become anglicized, and are therefore 
to be read with their French accent; and secondh", that the final e which 
terminates so many English words was not yet become an e mute, and 
is to be pronounced as a separate syllable, as love, hope, love, hopt ; 
and finally, the past termination of the verb ed is almost invariably to 
be made a separate syllable. Some curious traces of the old Anglo- 
Sa>ion grammar, as the inflections of the personal and possessive pro- 
nouns, are still retained ; as well as of the Teutonic past participle, in the 
prefix / or y {ifalle, yron, German gef alien, geronneit), and a few other 
details of the Teutonic formation of the verb. 



NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 

A—THE PREDECESSORS OF GOWER | ^.l P^^f^^l^^g centuries of transition (though it i. 

AVD PFTATTFR diificult to draw the precise line of demarcation) by 

its substance as well as its form. While the lan- 

By the middle of the fourteenth century the spirit guage has become so like modern English, that it 

of patriotism evoked by Edward III., and the in- can be read with tolerable ease, by pronouncing 

fluence of the continental Renaissance, were united sj'llables which are now mute , aKowing for the 

to call forth a vigorous national literature. Its retention of some inflectional forms, especially in 

chief product, as in most similar cases, was poetry, the pronouns and verbs, and takuig the trouble to 

but the earliest works in prose tliat can be properly learn the meaning of a few words now obsolete, 

called English belong to the same age. In A. D. the subjects are no longer borrowed entirely from 

LSoC, Maudeville dedicated his Travels to Edward i the monkish chroniclers or the Xorman minstrels; 

in. : in 1562 Parliament was first opened by a ! and those so borrowed are treated with the indepeu- 

speech in English ; Chaucer had begun to write ; I deuce of native genius. These characteristics are 



and Gower had exchanged the French and Latin 
of his earlier works for his mother tongue. That 
meeting of different influences, referred to in the 
text, may be illustrated by the fact that the last 
great hero of cliivaliy, the Black Prince, and 
Occam (see p. 22, 6), the last and greatest of the 
English schoolmen, lived in the same century with 
Chaucer, the father of English poetry, and Wic- 
liflie, the herald of the Reformation. The new 
literature may be distinguished from that of the 

5* 



first fullj' seen in Chaucer, and in a less degree in 
Gower in proportion to his far less commanding 
genius; but these two had several precursors in 
England, while a vigorous native literature grew 
up in the Anglo-Saxon parts of Scotland. AHAM 
L'AViE and Richakd Rolle (d. 1349), or Richard 
of Ilampole, near Dancaster, writers of metrical 
paraphrases of Scripture, and other religious pieces, 
belong properly to the Old English period, the 
former being the only English poet named in tho 



V 



54 



NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 



[Chap. II. 



reign of Edward 11. Richard Rolle also wrote, in 
the Northumbrian dialect, a poem called The 
Pricke of Conscience, in seven books, and nearly 
10,000 lines. It has been published by Mr. Morris, 
1803. The first poet of any merit, known to us by 
name, is Lawrence Minot (about A. D. 1352). 
His poems were discovered by Tyrwhitt, in 1775, 
and printed by Ritson in 1796 (reprinted in 1825), 
with an Introduction on the reign and wars of 
Edward III. They celebrate ten victories of that 
king in his wars with France and Scotland, except 
that the first gives an account of the battle of Ban- 
nockbum (A. D. 1314), as an introduction to that 
of Ilalidon llill (A. D. 1333) and others by which it 
was avenged. The last, the taking of Guisnes 
(A. D. 1352), gives an approximate date for the 
author, who may, however, of course have written 
the other poems nearer the events. Equal in spirit 
to the best of our heroic ballads, they have more 
sustained power and more finished composition. 
Their language is a border dialect, near akin to the 
Scotch. It is quite intelligible, when a few obsolete 
words and constructions are mastered. Among 
their varied measures, we meet with the animated 
double triplet, familiar in the poems of Scott. In 
Minot's poems rhyme is regularly employed ; while 
the frequent alliterations not only remind us of the 
principle of Anglo-Saxon composition, but prove 
how much the popular ear still required that 
artifice. 

There is another famous poem of the same age, 
constructed by a mixture of alliteration and rhyth- 
mical accent, without rhyme; the alliteration being 
stricter than that of the Anglo-Saxons themselves. 
This is the Viinon of Piers Ploughman, or rather 
the Vision of WiUimn eonceming Piers (or Peter) 
I'loughman, an allegory of the difficulties in the 
course of human life, kindred in conception to 
Banyan's great work, and in its day scarcely less 
popular. Its prevalent spirit is that of satire, aimed 
against abuses and vices in general, but in particu- 
lar against the corruptions of the church, from a 
moral (though not doctrinal) point of view closely 
resembling that of tlie later Puritans, with whom it 
was a great favorite. It consists of nearly 8000 
double verses (or couplets), arranged in twenty 
^'■passus," or sections, so little connected with each 
other as to appear almost separate poems. Each 
couplet has two principal accents, with a consider- 
able license as to the number of syllables. The 
alliteration falls on three accented syllables in each 
couplet, namely, on both those of the first line and 
on the first in the second line (and sometimes on 
the second). As these peculiarities can only be 
understood by an example, we give the opening of 
the poem, which also shows where the scene of the 
vision is laid, among the Malvern Hills (the pas- 
sage is quoted with the modernized spelling and 
explanations of Professor Craik) : — 

" In a .«ummer season. 

When .loft was tlie »un, 
I s/ioop me into .sAiouds* 

As I a ."fAeep t were ; 
In liah'it as a Aennit 

Un/(oly of werkes.i 



"Went U'ide in this World 
JFouders to hear : 



• Put mvself into clothes. 
t Probably a, vugabuud ixiar. 



t Shepherd. 



Ac * on a 3/ay ?norwening, 

On itfalveni hills, 
Me be/el a/erly,t 
Ofy'airy me thought." 

This opening marks the probable residence of the 
poet. The third couplet, with other internal evi- 
dence, points to his having been a priest. The date 
seems to be tolerably well fixed by his allusions to 
the treaty of Bretigny, in 1360, and to the great 
tempest of January 15, 1362, of which he speaks 
as of a recent event. Tradition ascribes the work 
to a certain Robert Langlande; but in the 
Latin title the author is called William. Nothing 
whatever is known of his personal history. Ilis 
acquaintance with ecclesiastical literature agrees 
with the supposition that he was a churchman ; and 
he was evidently familiar with the Latin poems 
ascribed to Walter de Mapes. The great interest 
of his work is its unquestionable reflection of the 
popular sentiment, of the age. Langlande is as 
intensely national as Chaucer; but, while the latter 
freely avails himself of the forms introduced by the 
Anglo-Norman literature, the former makes a last 
attempt to revive those of the Anglo-Saxon. This 
eftbrt, combined with his rich humor and unsparing ^^ 
satire, gained him unbounded popularity with the 
common people. The Vision of Piers Ploughman 
was first printed in 1550; the last reprint in black 
letter is that of Dr. Whitaker, 1813; a far better 
edition was published by Mr. Wright, with Litro- 
duction. Notes, and Glossary, in 2 vols. 12mo. 
Lond. 1812; but the numerous MSS. of the work 
would still repay a careful collation. Langlande 
had numerous imitators. The Creed of Piers 
Ploughman, a work of the same school, and often 
ascribed to the same author, is supposed to have 
been written about twenty or thirty years later than 
the Vision. It is more serious in its tone, and more 
in harmony with the religious views of Wiclifte. 
The Comfilaint of Piers Ploughman is found in a 
volume of political and satirical songs, which also 
contains a poem on the misgovemment of Rich- 
n., hinting at his deposition. These political 
poems concur with Gower's Vox Clamantis to give 
us a vivid impression of the evils which provoked 
the Lancastrian revolution. 

English Prose Literature begins with SiR JoilN i 
DE Manueville, who was born at St. Alban's 
about A. D. 1300, and left England for the East in | 
1322. His travels and his service under Oriental 
sovereigns gave him an extensive knowledge of 
Palestine, Egypt, Persia, and parts of India, Tar- \ 
tary, and China. He resided three years at Pekin. j 
On his return he wrote an account of what he pro- - 
fessed to have seen, and dedicated the book to ' 
Edward III. in A. D. 1356. He died at Liege, 
A. D. 1371. Mandeville's work is neither wholly, 
nor even chiefly, original. He borrows freely from 
the chroniclers and other old writers, preferring 
what is most wonderful ; and his own observations 
have so much of the marvellous as to discredit his 
testimony. The work is now chiefly interesting as 
the earliest example, on a large scale, of English 
prose. Mandeville himself tells us that he wrote it 
first in Latin, then translated it into French, and 
afterwards into English, "that every man of my 
nation may understand it." Such is not the proces* 



An<L 



t Wonder. 



Chap. II.] 



GOWER. 



65 



of creating a work of literary art ; and accordingly 
the English of Mandcville is sti-aightforward and 
unadorned, and probably a fair example of the 
spoken language of the day. As compared witli 
Robert of Gloucester, it shows a great increase of 
French words. No work of tlie age was more popu- 
lar. It exists in a large number of MSS. The 
earliest printed edition, in English, is that of 
"Wynkyn de Worde, Westminster, 1499, 8vo. ; but 
an Italian translation, by Pietro de Comero, had 
been previously printed at Milan, 1480, 4to. The 
standard English edition is that printed at London, 
1725, S\'o., and reprinted, with an Introduction, 
Kotes, and Glossary, by Mr. ilalliwell, London, 
1839, 8vo. The translation of the Latin I'oh/chroii- 
icon of Ralph Higden (see p. 30), by JOHN de 
Tbevisa, Vicar of Berkeley, completed in the year 
1385, is chiefly interesting as having been printed 
by Caxton, 1482, with an additional book bringing 
down the narrative from 1357 to 1460. It was also 
printed by Wynkj'n de Worde in 1485. It is a 
curious proof of the change which a single century 
made in the language, that Caxton thought it neces- 
sary " somewhat to change the rude and old Eng- 
lish, that is to v/it, certain words which in these 
days be neither used ne understood." Several other 
translations, made by Trevisa from the Latin, exist 
only in SIS. 

- The great Scottish Poet of this age, John B.\.K- 
BOUE, Archdeacon of Aberdeen (b. about A. D. 
131G, d. A. D. 1390), was rather a contemporary 
than a precursor of Chaucer, like whom he deserves 
to rank as the father of a national literature. His 
Bruce, in 13,000 rhymed octosyllabic lines, is a 
chrOHicle of the adventures of King Robert I., of 
very high merit. The lowland Scottish dialect was 
formed under exactly the same influences as the 
English, from which it differed rather less than in 
the present day. To confound it with the language 
of the aboriginal Celts is an error akin to painting 
V\'allace in tartans and a kilt. Barbour also paid 
several visits to England, and studied at Oxford in 
his mature age. Before tliis time there are hardli' 
any names in Scottish literature, except the school- 
man MlOllAKL Scot, who resided abroad, and was 
scarcely known at home except by his fabulous 
reputation as a wizard; Thomas Leemont, the 
Rhymer, of Ercildoune, erroneously called the 
author of the romance of iStV Tristram; and the 
Latin chronicler, John of Foepun, a canon of 
Aberdeen, whose Scoti-chronicon contains the 
legendary and historical annals of his country to 
the death of David I. The later and less celebrated 
contemporary of Barbour, Andeew WirNTOUN 
(b. about A. D. 1350, d. after 1420), Prior of Loch- 
leven, wrote a metrical chronicle in nine books, of 
Scottish and general history. Blind Habby, the 
Minstrel, belongs to the following century. 

B.— JOHN GOWER. 
The transition made in our language and litera- 
ture about the middle of the fourteenth century 
cannot be better illustrated than by the writings of 
John Gower, the contemporary and friend of Chau- 
cer, and the author of three great poetical works, 
the first in French, the second in Latin, and the 
third in English. Gower is assumed to have been 
jomewhat older than Chaucer, as the old writers 



generally name him first; he survived him by eight 
years, Chaucer ha\ ing died in A. D. 1400, ^nd 
Gower in A. D. 1408. But the precedence must be 
awarded to Chaucer, not only for the vast superior- 
ity of his genius, but as the earlier writer in English. 
It may be questioned whether Gower would have 
written in English at all, except in conformity to 
the tairte created by Chaucer. Their earl3' friend- 
ship is evinced by Ciiaucer's dedication of Troilus 
and Crescyde to Gower, by a title which became a 
fixed epithet of the latter poet : — 

" O MOKAL GOWKK! this booke I direct 
To thee, and to the philosophicall Strode, 
To vouchsafe there need is to correct 
Of your benignities and zeales good." 

And the continuance of their friendship (in spite of 
conjectmres founded on insufficient evidence) is 
attested by the compliment paid to Chaucer in 
Gower's Con/essio Amantis (finished in 1393), where 
Venus greets Chaucer 

" As my disciple and my poete," 
and after speaking of "the ditteesaud songes glad,'' 
composed " in the floures of his youth " for her 
sake, and of which 

" The land fulfilled is ouer all," 
exhorts him to employ his old age in writing his 
" Testament of Love." 

Two of the Canterbury Tales, those of the Man of 
Law and the Wife of Bath, are borrowed from 
Gower, unless both poets derived them from a 
common source. 

Caxton made Gower a native of Gowerland in 
South Wales, and Leland claimed him as a member 
of the family of Gower of Stittenliam, in Yorkshire, 
from which are sprung the noble houses of Suther- 
land and Ellesmere. But Sir Harris Nicolas and 
others have proved, from existing deeds, and from 
the comparison of seals with the arms on Gower's 
tomb, that the poet was an esquire of Kent, and 
probably of the same family as Sir Robert Gower 
of Multon (Moultou) and Kentwell, in Sufl'olk, who 
died in or before A. D. 1349, and whose daughter 
and coheiress Joan conveyed the manor of Kent- 
well to John Gower (the poet) on June 28, 13G8. 
From this and similar evidence it appears that 
Gower was sprung from a family of knightly rank, 
and that he possessed estates in Kent, Norfolk, 
Suffolk, and probably in Essex; though he lived 
much in London, and apparently in close connec- 
tion with the court. There is no ground for the 
common statement that he followed the legal pro- 
fession. About the j-ear 1400, he speaks of himself 
as both old and blind. His will still exists, made 
on the 15th of August, 1408, and proved by his 
widow, Agnes, on the 24th of October following, so 
that he must have died between those two dates. 
There can be little doubt that his wife was the same 
as the Agnes Groundalf whose marriage to Jolui 
Gower, at St. Mary Magdalen's, Southwark, on the 
28th of January, 1397, is recorded in the register of 
William of Wykeham, preserved at Winchester. 
If so, the poet married in his old age. His vvill 
leaves it doubtful whether he had issue. He lies 
buried, according to his own directions, in St. Mary 
Overy's (now St. Saviour's), Soutliwark, of which 
criurch he is said to have been a benefactor, beneath 
a splendid canopied tomb, bearing hia arms and 



56 



NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 



[Chap. II. 



effigy, the head resting on his three volumes ; the 
■wall within the three arches being painted with 
figures of Charity, ISIcrcy, and Pity. The story of 
his having been a fellow-student with Chaucer, 
either at Oxford or Cambridge, is as unfounded as 
most of Leland's other statements about him, but 
his works furuish proof of his having received the 
best education his age could bjatow, and of his 
command of the languages then in use. 

Gower's three great works were the Speculum 
JHeditantis, in French; the Vox Clainantis, in 
Latin; and the Con/essio Amantis, in English. 

(1.) The Speculuyn Meditantis is now entirely 
lost; the short French poem which Warton de- 
scribes under the title being an entirely ditt'erent 
work. It was a collection of precepts on chastity, 
enforced by examples. But there are still extant 
Fifttj French Ballads by Gower, in a MS. belong- 
ing to the Duke of Sutherland, and edited by the 
late duke for the Roxburghe Club, in 1818. " They 
are," says Pauli {Introd. Essay, p. xxvi.), "ten- 
der in sentiment, and not unrefined with regard to 
'language and form, especially if we consider that 
they are the work of a foreigner. They treat of 
Love in the manner introduced by the Provencal 
poets, which was afterwards generally adopted by 
those in tlie north of France. A few specimens 
cannot fail to give a favorable idea of Gower's skill 
and expression." These were about the last works 
of any importance written in the Anglo-Norman 
French, which was now so fully regarded as a for- 
eign language, that Gower apologizes for his French, 
saying, "I am English," while he gives as a reason 
for using the language, that he was addressing his 
ballads 

" Al Universite de tout le monde." 
Some verses addressed to IlenryrV., after his acces- 
sion, prove that Gower continued to write in 
French to the end of his life. 

(2.) Of Gower's great Latin poem, the Vox 
Clamantis, Dr. Pauli gives the following account : — 

" Soon after the rebellion of the commons in 1381 
[under Richard II.], an event which made a great 
impression on his mind, he wrote that singular 
work in Latin distichs, called Fox Clamantis, of 
which we possess an excellent edition by the Rev. 
H. O. Coxe, printed for the Roxburghe Club, in 
ISoO. The name, with an allusion to St. John the 
Baptist, seems to have been adopted from the gen- 
eral clamor and cry then abroad in the country. 
The greater bulk of the work, the date of which its 
editor is inclined to fix between 1382 and 1384, is 
rather a moral than an historical essay; but the 
firi^t book describes the insurrection of Wat Tyler 
in an allegorical disguise; the poet having a dream, 
on the 11th of June, 1381, in which men assume the 
Bi'.ape of animals. The second book contains a long 
eermon on fatalism, in which the poet shows him- 
self no friend to Wiclitfe's tenets, but a zealous 
advocate for the reformation of the clergy. The 
third book points out how all orders of society must 
Slitter for their own vices and demerits; in illustra- 
tion of which he cites the example of the secular 
clergy. The fourth book is dedicated" to the clois- 
tered clergy and tlie friars; the.fi/th to the military; 
t'lie sixth contains a violent attack on the lawyers ; 
and the seventh subjoins the moral of the whole, 
represented in Nebuchadnezzar's dream,, as inter- 



preted by Daniel." (Introd. Essa]/, p. xxix.) There 
are also some smaller Latin poems, in leonine 
hexameters; among them one addressed to Henry 
IV., in which the poet laments his blindness. 

(3.) Gower's latest poem, the Con/essio Aman- 
tis, was written in English, with a running mar- 
ginal commentary in Latin, soniething like that to 
the Ancient Mariner of Coleridge. Its composition 
seems to be due to the success of Chaucer. Wo 
again quote from Dr. Pauli : " The exact date of 
the poem has not been ascertained, but there ia 
internal evidence, in certain copies, that it existed in 
the year 1392-3. A^ this point involves a question 
of grave importance with respect to the author's 
behavior and position in the political events of the 
day, it will be necessary to enter more fully into 
the subject. He unquestionably issued two editions 
of the work, which, however, as wUl be distinctly 
seen in the present edition, vary from each other 
only at the commencement and at the end ; the one 
being dedicated to King Richard II., the other to 
his cousin, Henry of Lancaster, Earl of Derby. In 
the king's copy the poet describes at length how he 
came rowing downi the Thames at London one day, 
and how he met King Richard, who, having invited 
him to step into the royal barge, commanded him 
to write a book upon some new matter. In that 
addressed to Henry he says, that the book was fin- 
ished, the yere sixteenth of King Richard (A. D. 
1392-3), an important fact, which has been hitherto 
overlooked by all writers on the subject, including 
even Sir H. Nicolas {Life of Chaucer, p. 39), who 
states that Gower did not dedicate his work to Henry 
until he had ascended the throne." Having shown 
that the dedication was made when Henry was not 
yet King, or even Duke of Lancaster, but Earl of 
Derby, — a title which he bore in 1392-3, — Pauli 
proceeds: "The one version abounds in expres- 
sions of the deepest loyalty towards his sovereign, 
for whose sake he intends to write some newe thing 
in English; theother mentions the year of the reign 
of King Richard II., is full of attachment to Henry 
of Lancaster, 

' with whom my herte is of accorded 

and purports to appear in English for England's 
sake." The inference from all this is, that Gower, 
seeing tlie fatal tendency of Richard's course, early 
attached himself to Henry of Lancaster, from whom 
there is still extant a record of his receiving a collar 
in 1394 (probably in acknowledgment of the dedica- 
tion of his poem), and whom he more than once 
addi-esses with att'ection and respect in his minor 
pieces. Hence the commencement of the Confessio 
Amantis would fall before 1386, when Richard 
came of age, and began his arbitrary government. 
Hence, also, the omission of the compliment to 
Chaucer at the end of the poem, in the edition in- 
scribed to Henry, may be explained by motives of 
policy, without inferring any personal alienation. 

The Prologue is in the same strain of dissatisfac- 
tion with the existing order of things, which per- 
vades the Vox Clamantis ; and the poet comforts 
himself with the same resource, the divine govern- 
ment of the world, as revealed in the vision of 
Nebuchadnezzar. Yet how little he shares th« 
opinions of Wiclifi'e is proved by his reference to 

" This new secte of lollj'ilie." 



Chap. II.] 



WICLIFFE AND HIS SCHOOL. 



57 



Pauli gives the following outline of the work : 
" The poem opens by introducing the author him- 
self, in the character of an unhappy lover in despair, 
smitten by Cupid's arrow. Venus appears to him, 
and after having heard his prayer, appoints her 
priest called Genius, like the niystagogue in the 
Picture of Cebes, to hear the lovtr's confession. 
This is the frame of the whole work, which is a 
singular mixture of classical notions, principally 
borrowed from Ovid's Ars Ainandi, and of the 
purely medieval idea, that as a good Catholic the 
unfortunate lover must state his distress to a father 
confessor. This is done, in the course of the con- 
fession, with great regularity and even pedantry; 
all the passions of the human heart, which gener- 
ally stand in the way of love, being systematically 
arranged in the various books and subdivisions of 
the work. After Genius has fully explained the 
evil atiection, passion, or vice under consideration, 
tiic lover confesses on that particular point, and fre- 
quently urges his boundless love for an unknown 
beauty, wlio treats him cruelly, in a tone of aftecta- 
tion which would appear highly ridiculous in a man 
of more than sixty years of age, were it not a com- 
mon characteristic of the poetry of the period. 
After this profession, the confessor opposes hini^ 
and exempliiies the fatal eft'ccts of each passion by 
a variety of apposite stories, gathered from many 
sources. At length, after a frequent and tedious 
recurrence of the same process, the confession is 
ternjiuated by some final injunctions of the priest 
— the lover's petition in a strophic poem addressed 
to Venus — the bitter judgment of the goddess, that 
ae.should remember his old age, and leave oft' such 
fooleries ; 

" For loves lust and lockes hore 
In chambre accorden neuer more " — 

his cure from the wound caused by the dart of love, 
and his absolution, received as if by a pious Roman 
Catholic. 

" The materials for this extensive work [more 
than 30,000 lines], and the stories inserted as exam- 
ples for and against the lover's passion, are drawn 
from various sources. Some have been taken from 
the Bible; a great number from Ovid's Metamor- 
phoses, which must have been a particular favorite 
with the author ; others from the medieval histories 
of the siege of Troy, of the feats of Alexander the 
Groat — from the oldest collection of novels, known 
under (he name of the Gesta Jiomanoitim, chiefly 
in its form as used in England — from the Pantheon 
and Speculum Regum of Godfrey of Viterbo, from 
the romance of Sir Lancelot and the Chronicles of 
Cassiodorus and Isidorus." (Introd. Essay, pp. 
xxxiii. xxxlv.) There is also a vast amount of 
alchemical learning from the Almagest, and an 
exposition of the pseudo-Aristotelian philosophy 
of the middle ages. The author's fancy lies almost 
buried under the mass of his learning, and his 
laborious composition shows none of Chaucer's 
humor, or passion, or love of nature. In the lan- 
guage of the new school of poetry, to which Chau- 
cer's genius had given birth, Gower embodies most 
of the faults of the romance writers. Still he has 
his merits. " The vivacity and variety of his short 
verses evince a correct ear and a happy power, by 
the assistance of which he enhances thf interest in 
• tale, and frequently terminates it with e^tisfaction 



to the reader." (W. "W. Lloyd in Singer's Shak- 
speare, vol. iv. p. 261.) The Saxon element is as 
conspicuous in his language as hi Chaucer's; hut he 
uses a larger number of French words, as might 
have been expected from his early habits of compo- 
sition. The frequent want of skill in the construc- 
tion of his sentences shows that it was no easy task 
for him to write so long a work in English. There 
are some forms peculiar to him, as I sigh for I saw, 
and nought for not. He seldom uses alliteration. 
We have a long chain of testimony to Gower's 
popularity, from his own age to that of Shakspeate, 
who speaks of him thus: — 

" To sing a song that old was sung, 
From ashe-s ancient Gower is come, 
Assuming man's infirmities. 
To glad our ear and please our eyes." 

(Pericles.) 

The Con/essio Amantis was first printed by Cax- 
ton, Lond. 1483, fol. (the British Museum has two 
copies of this rare work), and by F. Berthelette, 
Lond. 1532, fol., reprinted 1554, fol. (both in black 
letter). None of the modern editions deserve men- 
tion in comparison of that by Dr. Reinhold Pauli, 
Lond. 1857, 3 vols., Svo., whose Introductory Essay 
contains all that ia known of the poet and hia 
works. 

- C— WICLIFFE AND IHS SCHOOL. 

The revolution effected by Chaucer in poetry was 
accompanied and aided by an entirely new develop- 
ment of religious literature, which, besides its higher 
fruits, rendered a similar service to our prose litera- 
ture. The new liberty of thought, which found 
expression in popular literature, showed itself also 
in a sifting of ecclesiastical pretensions, which led 
to a direct appeal to Scripture ; and the reforming 
teachers satisfied this demand by translating the 
Bible into the mother tongue. In the other Prot- 
estant countries of Europe, the revival of national 
literature has been connected with a similar work ; 
and, if the German Bible of Luther, and the Danish 
version of 1550, exerted a more powerful influence 
over the respective languages than the WicliSite 
translations, one chief reason is, that they appeared 
after the invention of printing, by which art they 
were immediately and indefinitely multiplied. In 
Ejigland this great work is ascribed to JOHN iiE 
WiCLiF, WICLIFFE, or Wycliffe (b. about A. D. 
1324, d. A. D. 1384). He was bom at Wicliflfe, near 
Richmond, in Yorkshire; studied at Oxford; be- 
came the priest of Fylingham, in Lincoln; and 
successively Master and Warden of Balliol College 
and Canterbury Hall, Oxford. He began early to 
attack the corruptions of the Church ; and after hia 
deposition from the latter post by Archbishop 
Langham, and the Pope's rejection of his appeal, he 
gave all his energies to the work of reform, both 
by his writings and by theological lectures at 
Oxford. For a long time he was not only unmo- 
lested, but was regarded as a champion of the An- 
glican Church. In 1374 he was a member of a 
commission sent to Avignon, which obtained con- 
cessions from the Pope on the question of induction 
into benefices. He was rewarded by the crown with 
a prebend at Worcester, and the vicarage of Lutter- 
worth, in Leicestershire, which he held till his 
death, being secured from the storm of persecution, 
which soon arose, by the protection of the king'i 



58 



NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 



[Chap. II. 



Bon, John of Gaunt. It was in the retirement of 
Lutterworth, after he had been driven from his 
chair at Oxford,* that Wicliffe, aided by his friends 
and disciples, undertook the work of Bible transla- 
tion. Their version was the basis of that of Tyn- 
dale, as the latter was of the Authorized Versions 
of 1535 (Coverdale's) and 1611 (King James's, which 
is still in use); but three centuries and a half 
elapsed before the original translation of the New 
Testament, end nearly five centuries before the 
■whole, appeared in print. The New Testament was 
edited by the Rev. John Lewis, 1731, fol. ; by the 
Rev. II. n. Baker, 1810, 4to. ; and in Bagster's Eng- 
lish Hejcapla, 1811 and 1846, 4to. The Old Testa- 
ment has only lately been published, in the splendid 
edition of the Rev. J. Forshall and Sir Frederick 
Madden, Oxf. 1850, 4 vols. 4to. The authorship of 
the several parts has long been the subject of dis- 
cussion. Accoi-ding to the latest editors, the Old 
Testament and Apocrypha, from Genesis to Baruch 
(in tlie order of the LXX.), was translated by a 
priest named IlEKEFOKn, and the rest of the Old 
Testament and Apocrypha, as well as the whole of 
the New Testament, by Wicliffe. The whole work 
was revised, in a second edition, by Pukvey, who 
has left ua a very interesting essay on the principles 

* Regular professorships not being yet established, 
Wielifte taught at Oxford by that right which, 
though now dormant, is still inherent, ai their 
names imply, in the Degrees of Doctor «nd Jia- 
fister. 



of translation. The first version seems to have 
been completed about A. D. 1380, and the edition 
of Purvey before 1390; so that this English Bible 
was generally circulated, so far as the jealousy of 
the church would permit, by the end of the four- 
teenth century. Its excellence is to be ascribed to 
two chief causes, the religious sensibility of the 
translators, whose spirit was absorbed in their 
work, and the simple vocabulary and structure of 
the language, which presented itself newly formed 
to their hand. Translated as it was from the Vul- 
gate, it naturalized, chiefly in a Latin form, a large 
stock of religious terms, almost confined before to 
theologians, and at the same time enlarged and 
modified them. Above all, by preserving the uni- 
formity of diction and grammar, suited to tlie 
sacred dignity of the work, and which is not found 
in nearly so high a degree in Wicliffe's own treatises, 
it laid the foundation of that religious or sacred 
dialect, which has contributed to secure dignity and 
earnestness as prevailing characters of our common 
speech. While satires of the type of Piers PUmgh- 
man gratified the popular disgust at the corruptions 
in high places, the newly-opened well-spring of 
truth taught them the cure for these evils ; and their 
•eager reception of both classes of works enriched 
their language as well as influenced their thoughts. 
Chaucer, imbued with popular sympathies, and 
connected with the political party that protected 
WicM'e, could not but be subject to these infiueuccs. 



A. D. 1400-1558.] SLOW PROGRESS OF LITERATURE, 59 



CHAPTER III. 

FROM THE DEATH OF CHAUCER TO THE AGE OF ELIZA- 
BETH. A. D. 1400-1558. 

1. Slow progress of English literature from Chaucer to the age of Elizabeth. 
Introduction of printing by Caxton. Improvement of prose. § 2. Scottish 
literature in the fifteenth century: King James I.; Dunbar; Gawin Dou- 
glas; Henkyson; Blind Harry. ^3. Reign of Henry VII., sterile in 
literature. Henry VIII.; Sir Thomas More. $4. Religious Literature: 
Translations of the Bible ; Book of Common Prayer; Latimer ; FoxE. ^ 5. 
Chroniclers and Historians : Lord Berners' Froissart ; Faeyan ; Hall. 
§6. Philosophy and Education: Wilson's Logic; Sir John Cheke ; Ro- 
ger Ascham's Schoolmaster and Toxophiliis. §7. Poets: Skelton ; Bar- 
KLAY and Hawes ; Wyatt and Surrey. § 8. I3allads of the fifteenth and 
sixteenth centuries: their sources, metre, and modes of circulation. Modern 
collections by Percy, Scott, &c. Influence on the revival of romantic literature. 
Ballads of the Scottish borders and of Robin Hood. 

§ 1. The progress of English Literature, inaugurated in so splendid a 
manner by the genius of Chaucer, though uninterrupted, was for a long 
time comparatively slow. Many social and political causes contributed 
to retard it for a time, or rather to accumulate the nation's energies for 
that glorious intellectual burst which distinguishes the Age of Eliza- 
beth, making that period the most magnificent in the history of the 
English people, if not in the annals of the human race. The causes 
just alluded to were the intestine commotions of the Wars of the Roses, 
the struggle between the dying energies of Feudalism and the nascent 
liberties of our municipal institutions, and the mighty transformation 
resulting from the Reformation. 

In point of splendor, fecundity, intense originality, and national spirit, 
none of the most brilliant epochs in the history of mankind can be 
considered as superior to the Elizabethan. In universality of scope 
and in the influence it was destined to exert upon the thoughts and 
knowledge of future generations, no other epoch can be brought into 
comparison with it. Neither the age of Pericles nor that of Augustus 
in the ancient world, nor those of the Medici and of Louis XIV. in 
modern history, can be regarded as approaching in importance to that 
period which, independently of a multitude of brilliant but inferior 
luminaries, produced the Prince of Poets and the Prince of Philoso- 
phers — William Shakespeare and Francis Bacon. But the interval 
between the end of the fourteenth century and the latter part of the 
sixteenth, though destitute of any names comparable for creative ener- 
gy to that of Chaucer, was a period of great literary activity. The 
importation into England of the art of printing; first exercised among 
us by Caxton, who was himself a useful and laborious author, and 



60 FROM THE DEATH OF CHAUCER [Chap. III. 

who died in 1491, unquestionably tended to give a more regular and 
literary form to the productions of that age ; the increase in the num- 
ber of printed books seems in particular to have been peculiarly effica- 
cious in generating a good prose style, as well as in enlarging the circle- 
of readers and extending the influence of popular intellectual activitj^, 
as for example by disseminating the habit of religious and political 
discussion. Thus Mandeville, regarded as one of the founders of prose 
writing in England, and who, at the period of Chaucer, gave to the 
world the curious description of his travels and adventures in many 
lands,* was followed by Chief Justice Fortescue (fl. 1430-1470), 
who, besides his celebrated Latin work " De Laudibus Legum An- 
gliae," also wrote one in English on " The Difference between an 
Absolute and Limited Monarchy." f 

§ 2. But the most brilliant names which occupy the beginning of 
this interval are those of Scotsmen. James I. (1394-1437), who was 
taken prisoner when a child (1405) and carefully educated at Windsor, 
must be regarded as a poet who does equal honor to his own country 
and to that of his captivity. This accomplished prince was the author 
of a collection of love-verses under the title of the King's ^uhair 
(i. e. ^uire or Book)y written in the purest English and breathing the 
romantic and elegant grace which the immense popularity of Petrarch 
had at that time made the universal pattern throughout Europe. His 
own national dialect, too, was that of the Lowland Scots, then and 
long after the language of literature, of courtly society, and of theol- 
ogy, and by no means to be regarded as the mere ;patois or provincial 
dialect which it has become since the union of the two crowns has 
destroyed the political independence of Scotland. In it James com- 
posed a number of songs and ballads of extraordinary mei'it, recount- 
ing with much humor his own amorous adventures ; some, unfortu- 
nately, of a character rather too warm for the delicacy of modern times. 
This intellectual and patriotic prince was assassinated in 1437 at Perth, 
by the nobles, among whom his own uncle was a chief conspirator, to 
revenge the king's concessions to the people. Besides King James, 
Scotland produced about this time several poets of great merit, 
the chief of whom are William Dunbar (about 1465-1520), and 
Gawin or Gavin Douglas, Bishop of Dunkeld (1474-1522), the former 
a truly powerful and original genius, and the second a voluminous and 
miscellaneous poet, whose example tended much to regularize and 
improve the national dialect, and to enrich the national literature. 
Among Dunbar's numerous poetical compositions we must in particu- 
lar specify his wild allegorical conception of " The Dafice of the Seven 
Veadly Sins," a fantastic and terrible impersonation, with the intense 
reality of Dante and the picturesque inventiveness of Callot. Gawin 

* For an account of Mandeville see p. 54. 

t Sir John Fortescue was originally a Lancastrian. He accompanied Henry 
VI. into exile ; was afterwards taken prisoner at the battle of Tewkesbiiry in 
1471, and was attainted. He obtained his pardon by acknowledging the title 
of Edward IV. 



A. D. 1480-1535.] TO THE AGE OF ELIZABETH, 61 

Douglas is now chiefly remembered as the translator of Virgil into 
Scottish verse, and in both this and his original compositions the 
reader will be struck by the much greater preponderance of French 
and Latin words in the dialect of Scotland than in contemporary Eng- 
lish writings. This is partly to be attributed to the close political con- 
nection maintained by Scotland with France, with which country she 
generally sided out of hostility to England ; and partly, no doubt, to a 
kind of pedantic affectation, a sort of Scottish estilo culto^ like the 
Gongorism of the Spaniards. Robert Henryson (d. about 1500), a 
monk or schoolmaster of Dunfermline, wrote, in imitation of Chaucer, 
the Testament of Faire Cresetde, and the beautiful pastoral of Robin 
and Mahyne (in Percy's Reliques). Another Scottish poet, known 
under the appellation of Blind Harry or Harry the Minstrel, but 
concerning the details of whose life nothing accurate has been discov- 
ered, wrote, in long rhymed couplets, a narrative of the exploits of the 
second great national hero, William Wallace. This work is not des- 
titute of vigorous and picturesque passages. Barbour and the other 
writers of the fourteenth century have been already mentioned (p. 55). 
§ 3. The reign of Henry VII., as might have been expected from the 
sombre character of that politic prince, was by no means favorable 
to literary activity ; but Henry VIII. was possessed of much of the 
learning of his age, and even distinguished himself by his controver- 
sial writings against Luther. The title of "Defender of the Faith," 
by which the Pope recompensed this sceptred polemic, has been ever 
since retained in the style of English sovereigns — a singular example 
of the vicissitudes of names. The great and good chancellor Sir 
Thomas More, the poets Skelton, Wyatt, and Surrey, belong to this 
memorable reign. Of the three last we shall speak among the poets. 
Sir Thomas More (i4§c>-i535) is unquestionably one of the most prom- 
inent intellectual figures of this reign, whether as statesman, polemic, 
or man of letters. The ardent attachment which More felt to the 
Catholic religion, and which he so often testified by acts of persecution, 
contrary to his gentle and genial character, he firmly maintained when 
himself persecuted and in the presence of a cruel and ignominious death. 
His philosophical romance of the Utopia^ written in Latin, is a striking 
example of the extreme freedom of speculative and political discussion, 
exercised not only with impunity, but even with approbation, under the 
sternest tyranny. The fundamental idea of this work was borrowed from 
the Atlajitis of Plato. It is one of the earliest of many attempts to give, 
under the form of a voyage to an imaginary island, the theory of an 
ideal republic, where the laws, the institutions, the social and political 
usages, are in strict accordance with a philosophical perfection. Eng- 
land has been peculiarly fertile in these sports of political fancy. Bacon 
also left an unfinished sketch of an imaginary republic; and the Oceana 
of Harrington is a similar attempt to realize the theory of a perfectly 
happy and philosophic government.* 

* Of Sir Thomas More's English works, the most remarkable, on account of 
its style, is his Life of Echoarcl F., which Mr. Hallam pronounces to be "the 
6 



62 FROM THE DEATH OF CHAUCER [Chap. III. 

§ 4. Parallel with the improvement of general literature, and indeed 
in no small measure connected with it, must be noted the very general 
diffusion of religious controversy connected with the doctrines of the 
Reformation, and the dissemination of English translations of the 
Scriptures. Tyndale and Coverdale, the former of whom was 
burned near Antwerp, in 1536, and the latter made Bishop of Exeter 
about the middle of the same century, gave to the world the first por- 
tions, and the two together the whole, of the sacred writings in an 
English version ; and the compilation of the English Book of Common 
Prayer in the reign of Edward VI. combined with the diffusion of the 
Scriptures in the English language to furnish the people with models 
of the finest possible style — grave and dignified without ostentation, 
vigorous and intelligible without vulgarity. The Liturgy itself was 
little else but a translation, with some few omissions and alterations, 
from the Latin Mass-book of the Catholic Church ; but the simple and 
majestic style of the version, as well as that preserved in the English 
translation of the Bible, has endowed the Anglican Church with the 
noblest religious diction possessed by any nation in the world. It was 
formed at the critical period in the history of our native tongue when 
the simplicity of the ancient speech was still fresh and living, and yet 
when the progress of civilization was sufficiently advanced to adorn 
that ancient element with the richness and expressiveness of a more 
polished epoch. The singular felicity of these circumstances has had 
an incalculable effect on the whole character of our language and liter- 
ature, and has preserved to the English tongue the force and pictur- 
esqueness of the fifteenth century, while not excluding the refinements 
of the nineteenth. Nor is it possible that the majestic style of our 
older writers can ever become obsolete, while the noble and massive 
language of our Bible and Prayer-Book continues to exert — as it prob- 
ably ever will — so immense an influence on the modes of thinking and 
speaking of all classes of the population. Many of our ancient preach- 
ers and controversialists too, like good old Hugh Latimer, burned as 
a heretic by Mary in 1555, and the chronicler of the Protestant Martyrs, 
John Foxe, who died in 1587, contributed, in writings which, though 
sometimes rude and unadorned, are always fervent, simple, and idi- 
omatic, to disseminate among the great mass of the people not only an 
ardent attachment to Protestant doctrines, but a habit of religious dis- 
cussion and consequently a tendency to intellectual activity. 

§ 5. Independently of purely religious disquisition the period ante- 
rior to the reign of Elizabeth was not barren of literary productions of 
more general interest. Lord Berners, governor of Calais under 
Henry VIII., translated into the picturesque and vigorous English of 
that day the Chronicle of Froissart, that inexhaustible storehouse of 
chivalrous incident and mediaeval detail. The translation is not only 
remarkable for fidelity and vivacity, but the archaism of Berners' lan- 
guage, by preserving to the modern English reader the quaintness of 

first example of good English language ; pure and perspicuous, well-chosen, 
ivithout vulgarisms or pedantry." 



A. D. 1400-1558.] TO THE AGE OF ELIZ ABETS, 63 

the original, produces precisely the same impression as the picturesque 
old French. 

It is curious to trace the gradual transformation of historical litera- 
ture. Its first and earliest type, in the ancient as well as the modern 
world, is invariably mj^thical or legendary, and the form in which it 
then appears is universally poetical. The legend, by a natural transi- 
tion, gives way to the chronicle or regular compilation of legends ; and 
the chronicle becomes, after many ages of civilization, the mine from 
whence the philosophical historian extracts the rude materials for his 
work. As the detached legendary or ballad episodes of Homer verge 
into the chronicle history^ so fresh in its infantine simplicity, of Herod- 
otus, or the old rude Latin ballads into the chronicle history of Livy, 
and as these in their turn generate the profound philosophical reflec- 
tions of Thucydides or Tacitus, so in the parallel department of mod- 
ern literature in England, we find the fabulous British legends com- 
bining themselves in the Monastic and Trouvere chronicles, and these 
again generating the prosaic but useful narratives from which the mod- 
ern historian draws the materials for his pictures and reflections. In 
the minute and gossiping pages of such writers as old Fabyan (d. 1512), 
who was an alderman and sheriff" of London, and Edward Hall (d. 
1547), who was a judge in the Sheriff"'s Court of the same city, we find 
the ti-ansition from the poetical, ballad, or legendary form of history. 
Their writings, though totally devoid of philosophical system or gen- 
eral knowledge, and though exhibiting a complete want of critical 
discrimination between trifling and important events, are extremely 
valuable, not only as vast storehouses of facts which the modern his- 
torian has to sift and classify, but as monuments of language and exam- 
ples of the popular feeling of their time. In England these chronicles 
wear a peculiar bourgeois air, and were indeed generallj^, as in the case 
of the former of these writers, the production of worthy but not very 
highly-cultivated citizens. Mixed with much childish and insignificant 
detail, which, however, is not without its value as giving us an insight 
into the life and opinions of the age, we find an abundant store of facts 
and pictures, invaluable to the modern and more scientific historian.* 

§ 6. Among numerous works on philosophy and education (which 
now takes its place as a branch of literature) Thomas Wilson's Trea- 
tise of Logic and Rhetoric^ published in 1553, must be regarded as a 
work far superior in originality of view and correctness of literary prin- 

* The earliest English Chronicle is John de Trevisa's translation of Higden's 
* Polychronicon,' with a continuation by Caxton down to 1460, which is noticed 
on p. bb. Next comes the metrical chronicle of John Harding, coming down to 
the reign of Edward IV. (See p. 69.) Then follow the Chronicles of Fabyan and 
Hall, mentioned in the text. Fabyan's Chronicle, which he called the Concor- 
dance of Histories, begins with the fabulous stories of Brute the Trojan, and 
comes down to his own time. Hall's Chronicle, first printed by Grafton in 1548, 
under the title of The Union of the Tico Nobis and Illustrious Families of York 
tnd Lancaster, gives a history of England under the houses of York and Lancas- 
Jer, and of the reigns of Henry ^TI. and Henry VIII. 



64 FROM THE DEATH OF CHAUCER [Crap. III. 

ciple to anything that had at that time appeared in England or else- 
where, relative to a subject of the highest importance ; and the writings 
of Sir John Cheke (1514-1557) not only rendered an inestimable service 
to philology by laying the foundation of Greek studies in the Univer- 
sity of Cambridge, where he was professor, but tended powerfully to 
regulate and improve the tone of English prose. The excellent precepts 
given by Wilson and Cheke concerning the avoidance of pedantic and 
affected expressions in prose, and in particular their ridicule of the then 
prevailing vice of alliteration and exaggerated subtlety of antithesis, were 
exemplified by the grave and simple propriety of their own writings. 
To the same category as the preceding writers mentioned will belong 
Roger Ascham (1515-1568), the learned and affectionate preceptor of 
Elizabeth and the unfortunate Jane Grey. His treatise entitled the 
Schoolmaster., and the book called Toxophihcs^ devoted to the encour- 
agement of the national use of the bow, are works remarkable for the 
good sense and reasonableness of the ideas, which are expressed in a 
plain and vigorous dignity of style that would do honor to any epoch 
of literature. The plans of teaching laid down in Ascham's School- 
master have been revived in our own day as an antidote to shallow 
novelties, and his advocacy of the bow has been more than carried out 
by the modern rifle. 

§ 7. But though the popular literature of England in the reign of 
Henry VIII. naturally took, from the force of contemporary circum- 
stances, a polemical, controversial, or philosophical tone, and writers 
busied themselves chiefly about those great religious questions which 
were then exciting universal interest, there were poets who cannot be 
passed over by one desirous of forming an idea of the intellectual char- 
acter of that momentous period of transformation. John Skelton, 
the date of whose birth is unknown, but who died in 1529, was un- 
doubtedly a man of considerable classical learning. He is spoken of 
by Erasmus, who passed some time in England, where he was received 
with warm hospitality by More, and even read lectures before the Uni- 
versity of Cambridge, as " litterarum Anglicarum decus et lumen." 
He belonged to the ecclesiastical profession, was rector of Diss in Nor- 
folk, and incessantly alludes in his writings to the honor of the laurel 
which he had received from Oxford; but whether this indicates a specific 
personal distinction, conferred upon him alone, or merely an academical 
degree, is not quite clearly established. He appears also to have en- 
joyed the privilege of wearing the king's colors or livery, and to have 
been to a certain degree the object of court favor : but there is reason 
to believe that he was not remarkable for prudence or regularity of con- 
duct. His poetical productions, which are tolerably voluminous, may 
be divided into two very marked and distinct categories, his serious and 
comic or satiric writings. The former, which are either eulogistic 
poems addressed to patrons or allegorical disquisitions in a grave, lofty, 
and pretentious strain of moral declamation, will be found by the 
modern reader, who may be bold enough to examine them, insupport- 
ably stifl:', tiresome, and pedantic, exhibiting, it is true, considerable 



A. D. 14001558.] TO THE AGE OF ELIZABETH, 65 

learning, an elevated tone of ethical disquisition, and a pure and some- 
times vigorous English stjle, when the poet can free himself from the 
trammels of Latinizing pedantry : but they are destitute of invention 
and grace. These poems, however, were in all probability much ad- 
mired at a time when, English literature being as yet in its infancy, 
readers as well as writers thought more of borrowed than original con- 
ceptions, and placed learning — which was of course admired in propor- 
tion to its rarity — higher than invention. But it is in his comic and 
satirical writings that Skelton is truly original ; he struck out a path in 
literature, not very high it is true, but one in which he had no prede- 
cessors and has found no equals. He engaged, with an audacity and 
an apparent impunity which now appear equally inexplicable, in a 
series of the most furious attacks upon the then all-powerful favorite 
and minister Wolsey : and in the whole literature of libels and pas- 
quinades there is nothing bolder and more sweeping than these invec- 
tives. They are written in a peculiar short doggerel measure, the rhymes 
of which, recurring incessantly, and sometimes repeated with a rapidity 
that almost takes away the reader's breath, form an admirable vehicle 
for violent abuse, invariably couched in the most familiar language of 
the people. He has at once perfectly described and exemplified the 
character of his " breathlesse rhymes " in the following passage : — 

** For though my rime be ragged, 
Tattered and jagged, 
Rudely raine-beaten, 
Rusty and mooth-eaten, 
If ye take wel therewith 
It hath in it som pith." 

All that is coarse, quaint, odd, familiar, in the speech of the commonest 
of the people, combined with a command of learned and pedantic im- 
agery almost equal to the exhaustless vocabulary of Rabelais, is to be 
found in Skelton ; and his writings deserve to be studied, were it only 
as an abundant source of popular English. In one strange extrava- 
ganza, entitled " The Tunning of Elinour Rummyng,^^ he has described 
the attractions of the browst of a certain alewife, and the furious eager- 
ness of the women of the neighborhood to taste the barley-bree of 
Dame Rummyng, who is said to have been a real person and to have 
kept an alehouse at Leatherhead, in Surrey. Elinour and her establish- 
ment, and her thirsty customers, are painted with extraordinary hu- 
mor and with a vast fecundity of images, some of which are so coarse as 
to exceed all bounds of moderation and even of decency. Of the 
humor, knowledge of low life, and force of imagination displayed, there 
can be but one opinion. Another very strange pleasantry of this 
humorist is the Boke of the Sparrow, a sort of dirge or lamentation on 
the death of a tame sparrow, the favorite of a young lady who belonged 
to a Convent. The bird was unfortunately killed by a cat, and after 
devoting this cat in particular and the whole race of cats in general to 
eternal punishment in a sort of humorous excommunication, the poet 
proceeds to describe a funeral service performed, for the repose of Philip 
6* ^ 



66 FROM THE DEATH OF CHAUCER [Chap. III. 

Sparrow's soul, bj all the birds ; in which we have a parody of the vari- 
ous parts of the Catholic funeral ritual. In this work, as well as in 
most of Skelton's writings, we find Latin and French freely inter- 
mingled with his nervous and popular English ; and this singularly 
heightens the comic effect. Skelton's purely satiric productions are 
principally directed against Wolsey, and against the Scottish king and 
nation, over whose fatal defeat at Flodden the railing satirist exults in a 
manner unworthy of a generous spirit. His principal attacks upon 
Wolsey are to be found in the poems entitled the Booke of Colin Clout, 
W/iy Come Te not to Court, and the Bouge of Court. 

Two poets, who flourished nearly at the same time, Stephen Hawes 
and Alexander Barklay, deserve mention for the influence they exerted 
on the intellectual character of their age, though their writings have 
fallen into neglect. Stephen Hawes (fl. 1509), the elder of the two, 
whom Warton describes as the " only writer deserving the name of a 
poet in the reign of Henry VII.," was a favorite of that monarch, and 
the author of the Pastime of Pleasure, a long and in many passages a 
striking allegorical poem in the versification of old Lydgate. Alexan- 
der Barklay, who lived a little later under Henry VIII. and died at an 
advanced age, at Croydon, in Surrey, in 1552, translated into English 
verse Sebastian Brandt's once-celebrated satire of the Ship of Fools, 
an epitome of the various forms of pedantry and aflfectation.* In the 
writings of \)oth we see the rapid development of flexibility and har- 
mony of English versification, the approach to that consummate per- 
fection which was at no long period to be attained by Spenser and 
Shakspeare, under the influence, particularly in the former case, of the 
enlightened imitation of Italian metrical melody. How rapid this 
progress in taste and refinement really was, may be deduced from an 
examination of the poems of Sir Thomas Wyatt (the elder) and the 
Earl of Surrey, who were nearly contemporaries in their lives and 
early deaths. The former was born in 1503, and died in 1541 ; the 
second, one of the most illustrious members of the splendid house of 
Howard, was born in 1517, and beheaded, under a false and absurd 
charge of high treason, by Henry VIII., in 1547. Both these nobles were 
men of rare virtues and accomplishments, Wyatt the type of the wit 
and statesman, and Surrey of the gallant cavalier; and both enjoyed 
a high popularity as poets. In their works we plainly trace the Italian 
spirit, and the style of their poems, though not free from that amorous 
and metaphysical casuistry which the example of Petrarch long ren- 
dered so universal throughout Europe, is singularly free from harshness 
of expression and that uncouthness of form which is perceptible in the 
earlier attempts of English poetry. 

Surrey may justly be regarded as the first English classical poet. He 
was the first who introduced blank verse into our English poetry, which 
he employed in translating the second and fourth books of Virgil's 
^neid. " Surrey," says Mr. Hallam, " did much for his own country 

* Brandt was a learned civilian of Basel, and published in 1494 a satire la 
German with, the above title. 



A. D. 1400-1558.] TO THE AGE OF ELIZABETH. 67 

and his native language. His versification differs very considerably 
from that of his predecessors. He introduced a sort of involution into 
his style, which gives an air of dignity and remoteness from common 
life. It was, in fact, borrowed from the license of Italian poetry, which 
our own idiom has rejected. He avoids pedantic words, forcibly ob- 
truded from the Latin, of which our earlier poets, both English and 
Scots, had been ridiculously fond. The absurd epithets of Hoccleve, 
Lydgate, Dunbar, and Douglas are applied equally to the most different 
things, so as to show that they annexed no meaning to them. Surrey 
rarely lays an unnatural stress on final syllables, merely as such, which 
they would not receive in ordinary pronunciation — another usual trick 
of the school of Chaucer. His words are well chosen and well ar- 
ranged." Wj-att is inferior to Surrey in harmony of numbers and ele- 
gance of sentiment. Their " Songs and Sonnettes " were first collected 
and printed at London by Tottel, in 1557, in his Miscellany, which was ^, 
the first printed poetical miscellany in the English language. y^*^^*^^ 

§ 8. I cannot better conclude this transitional or intercalary chapter^ 
than by making a few remarks on a peculiar class of compositions in 
which England is unusually rich, which are marked with an intense 
impress of nationality, and which have exerted, on modern literature 
in particular, an influence v/hose extent it is impossible to overrate. 
These are our national Ballads, produced, it is probable, in great 
abundance during the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, and in many 
instances traceable to the " North Countree," or the Border region 
between England and Scotland. This country, as the scene of inces- 
sant forays from both sides of the frontier during the uninterrupted 
warfare between the two countries, was naturally the theatre of a mul- 
titude of wild and romantic episodes, consigned to memory in the rude 
strains of indigenous minstrels. No country indeed (excepting Spain* 
in the admirable romances which commemorate the long struggle 
between the Christians and the Moors, and the collection containing 
the cycle of the Cid) possesses anything similar in kind or comparable ^ 

in merit to the old ballads of England. They bear the marks of having ^ 

been composed, somewhat like the Rhapsodies of the old Ionian bards ^ 

from which the mysterious personality whom we call Homer derived V 
at once his materials and his inspiration, by rude wandering min- 
strels. Such men — probably often blind or otherwise incapacitated 
from taking part in active life — gained their bread by singing or 
repeating them. These poets and narrators were a very different class 
from the wandering troubadours or jongleurs of Southern Europe and 
of France ; and living in a country much ruder and less chivalric, ^ 
though certainly not less warlike than Languedoc or Provence, their 
compositions are inimitable for simple pathos, fiery intensity of feeling, 
and picturesqueness of description. In every country there must exist 
some tj'pical or national form of versification, adapted to the genius of 
the language and to the mode of declamation or musical accompani- 
ment generally employed for assisting the effect. Thus the legendary 
poetry of the Greeks naturally took the form of the Homeric hexam- 



68 FROM^ THE DEATH OF CHAUCER [Chap. III. 

eter, and that of the Spaniards the loose asonante versification, as in 
the ballads of the Cid, so well adapted to the accompaniment of the 
guitar. The English ballads, almost without exception, affect the 
iambic measure of twelve or fourteen syllables, rhyming in couplets, 
which, however, naturally divide themselves, by means of the ccesura 
or pause, into stanzas of four lines, the rhymes generally occurring at 
the end of the second and fourth verses. This form of metre is found 
predominating throughout all these interesting relics ; and was itself, 
in all probability, a relic of the old long unrhymed alliterative measure, 
examples of which may be seen in the Lay of Gamelyn, or in the more 
recent Vision of Piers Plowman. The breaking up of the long lines 
into short hemistichs, to which I have just alluded, may have been 
originally nothing but a means for facilitating the copying of the lines 
into a page too narrow to admit them at full length : and the readiness 
with which these lines divide themselves into such hemistichs may be 
observed by a comparison with the long metre of the old German 
Nibelungen Lied, each two lines of which can be easily broken up 
into a stanza of four, the rhymes being then confined, as in the English 
ballads, to the second and fourth lines. 

Written or composed by obscure and often illiterate poets, these pro- 
ductions were frequently handed down only by tradition from genera- 
tion to generation : it is to the taste and curiosity, perhaps only to the 
family pride, of collectors, that we owe the accident by which some of 
them were copied and preserved ; the few that were ever printed, being 
destined for circulation only among the poorest class, were confided to 
the meanest typography and to flying sheets, or broadsides, as they are 
termed by collectors. Vast numbers of them — perhaps not inferior to 
the finest that have been preserved — have perished forever. The first 
considerable collection of these ballads was published, with most agree- 
able and valuable notes, by Bishop Thomas Percy, in 1765, and it is 
to his example that we owe, not only the preservation of these invalu- 
ble relics, but the immense revolution produced, by their study and 
imitation, in the literature of the present century. It is no exaggera- 
tion to say that the old English ballads had the greatest share in bring- 
ing about that immense change in taste and feeling which characterizes 
the revival of romantic poetry; and that the relics of the rude old moss- 
trooping rhapsodists of the Border, in a great measure, generated the 
admirable inspirations of Walter Scott. Constructed, like the Homeric 
rhapsodies or the Romances of Spain, upon a certain regular model, 
these ballads, like the productions just mentioned, abound in certain 
regularly recurring passages, turns of expression and epithets : these 
must be regarded as the mechanical or received aids to the composer 
in his task; but these commonplaces are incessantly enlivened by some 
stroke of picturesque description, some vivid painting of natural objects, 
some burst of simple heroism, or some touch of pathos. Among the 
oldest and finest of these works I may cite " the grand old ballad " of 
Sir Patrick Spens, the Battle of Otterburne, Chevy Chase, the Death 
of Douglas^ all commemorating some battle, foray, 01 military exploit 



A. D. 1400.] TO TUE AGE OF ELIZABETH. 



69 



of the Border. The class of which the above are striking specimens, 
bear evident marks, in their subjects and the dialect in which thej are 
composed, of a Northern, Scottish, or at least Border origin : it would 
be unjust not to mention that there exist large numbers, and those often 
of no inferior merit, which are distinctly traceable to an English — 
meaning a South British — source. To this class will belong the 
immense cycle or collection of ballads describing the adventures of the 
famous outlaw Robin Hood, and his " merry men." This legendary 
personage is described in such a multitude of episodes, that he must be 
considered a sort of national type of English character. Whether 
Robin Hood ever actually existed, or whether, like William Tell, he 
be merely a popular myth, is a question that perhaps no research will 
ever succeed in deciding : but the numerous ballads recounting his 
exploits form a most beautiful and valuable repertory of national tra- 
dition and national traits of character. In the last-mentioned class of 
ballads, viz. those of purely English origin, the curious investigator 
will trace the resistance opposed by the oppressed class oi yeomen to 
the tj'-ranny of Norman feudalism ; and this point has been turned to 
admirable account by Walter Scott in his romance of Ivankoe, in those 
exquisitely delineated scenes of which Robin Hood, under the name 
of the outlaw Locksley, is the hero. In these compositions we see 
manifest traces of the rough, vigorous spirit of popular, as contradis- 
tinguished from aristocratic, feeling. They commemorate the hostility 
of the English people against their Norman tyrants : and the bold and 
joyous sentiment which prevails in them is strongly contrasted with 
the lofty and exclusive tone pervading the Trouvere legends. 



NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 



A. -MINOR POETS. 

From the death of Chaucer there is a dreary blank 
in the history of English poetry. The first writer 
•who deserves mention is 

Thomas Occleve (fl. 1420), a lawyer in the 
reign of Henry V. But he hardly deserves the name 
of a poet, as his verses are feeble and stupid. Very 
few of hie poems have been printed. 

John Lydgate (fl. 1430) is a writer of greater 
merit. He was a monk of Bury, in Suffolk; he 
travelled into France and Italy, and was well ac- 
quainted with the literature of both countries. He 
wrote a large number of poems, of which one of the 
most celebrated is a translation of Boccaccio's Fall 
of Princes, which he describes as a series of Trage- 
dies. His two other larger works are, the Stcny of 
Thebes translated from Statins, and the History of 
the Siege of Troy. Gray formed a high opinion of 
his poetical powers. " I pretend not," he says, " to 
set him on a level with Chaucer, but he certainly 
comes the nearest to him of any contemporary 
writer I ani acquainted with. His choice of expres- 
bIoo, and the smoothness of his verse, far surpass 



both Gower and Occleve. He wanted not art in 
raising the more tender emotions of the mind." 

John Harding (fl. 1470) wrote in verse a Chron- 
icle of England, coming down to the reign of Ed- 
ward IV., to whom he dedicated the work. The 
poetry is wretched, and desen'es only the attention 
of the antiquary. 

The Scottish Poetry occupies a higher place 
than the English in the fifteenth and the first half 
of the sixteenth centuries. Babbour and Wynton 
belong to the fourteenth century, and are spoken of 
in the Notes and Illustrations to the preceding 
chapter (p. 55). They are followed by James I., 
Dunbar, GA■v^^N Douglas, Henryson, and 
Blind Harry, mentioned in the text (pp. 60, 61). 
To these should be added Sir David Lyndsay 
(1490-1557), the Lyon King at Arms, and the friend 
and companion of James V. His poems are said to 
have contributed to the Reformation in Scotland. 
In his satires he attacked the clergy with great 
severity. " But in the ordinary style of his versifi- 
cation he seems not to rise much above the prosaic 
and tedious rhymers of the fifteenth century. Bis 



70 



NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. [Chap. III. 



descriptions are as circumstantial without selection 
as theirs; and his language, partaking of a ruder 
dialect, is still more removed from our own." 
(Hallam.) 

It has been remarked above (see p. 67) that Surrey 
and Wyatt's poems were published in Tottel's Mis- 
cellany, which was the first printed poetical miscel- 
lany in the English language. Among the other 
contributors to this collection, though their names 
are not mentioned, were SiK FKANCIS BRYAN, the 
nephew of Lord Berners, the translator of Froissart, 
and one of the brilliant ornaments of the court of 
Henry VIII. ; GEOECiE BOLEYN, VISCOUNT ROCH- 
FOKD, the brother of Anne Boleyn, beheaded in 
1,536; Thomas, Lord Vaux, Captain of the Island 
of Jersey under Henry VIII., some of whose poems 
are also printed in the collection called the " Para- 
dise of Dainty Devices" (seep. 8.5), and who is 
described by Puttenham in his Art of Poesie as " a 
man of much facilitie in vulgar makings ; " and 
KiCHOLAS Gkimoald (about 1520-1563), a lecturer 
at Oxford, whose initials, N. G., are attached to 
his " Songes " in Tottel's Miscellany, lie was a 
learned scholar, and translated into English some 
of the Latin and Greek classics. 

To this period, rather than to that of Elizabeth, 
belongs TllOMAS Tl'SSEB (1527-1580), one of the 
earliest of our didactic poets, who was born at 
Rivenhall in Essex, was educated at Cambridge, 
and passed two years at court under the patronage 
of William, Lord Paget. He' afterwards settled as a 
farmer at Cattiwade in Sufiblk, where he wrote his 
work on Husbandry, of which the first edition 
appeared in 1557, under the title of " A Hundreth 
Good Pointes of Husbandrie." He practised farm- 
ing iu other parts of the country, was a singing 
man in Norwich cathedral, and died poor in Lon- 
don. His work, after going through four editions, 
was published in an enlarged form in 1577, under 
the title of " Five Hundred Points of Good Hus- 
bandrie, united to as many of Good Huswiferie." 
It is written in familiar verse, and " is valuable as a 
genuine picture of the agriculture, the rural arts, 
and the domestic economy and customs of our 
industrious ancestors." (Warton.) 



B.-SIINOR PROSE WRITERS. 
One of the chief prose writers of the fifteenth 
century was Pecock (fl. 1450), Bishop of Asaph, 
and afterwards of Chichester. Though he wrote 
against the Lollards, his own theological views 
were regarded with suspicion, and he was, in 1457, 
obliged to recant, was deprived of his bishopric, 
md passed the rest of his life in a conventual prison. 
His ijrincipal work, entitled the liepressor of over- 
much blaming of the Clergy, appeared in 1449. 
There is an excellent edition of this work by C. 
Babington, 1863. With respect to its language, 
Mr. Marsh observes that, " although, in diction and 
arrangement of sentences, the Repressor \s much in 
advance of the chroniclers of Pecock's age, the 
grammar, both in accidence and S3'ntax, is in many 
points nearly where Wiclilfe had left it ; and it is 
of course in these respects considerably behind that 



of the contemporary poetical writers. Thus, whila 
these latter authors, as well as some of earlier date, 
employ the objective plural pronoun Ihem, and the 
plural possessive pronoun their, Pecock writes al- 
ways hem for the personal and her for the posses- 
sive pronoun. These pronominal forms soon fell 
into disuse, and they are hardly to be met with iu 
any English writer of later date than Pecock. 
With respect to one of them, however, — the objec- 
tive hem for them, — it may be remarked that it has 
not become obsolete in colloquial speech to the 
present day ; for in such phrases as I saw 'em, I told 
'em, and the like, the pronoun em (or 'em) is nut. 
as is popularly supposed, a vulgar corruption of 
the full pronoun them, which alone is found in 
modern books, but it is the true Anglo-Saxon and 
old English objective plural, which, in our spoken 
dialect, has remained unchanged for a thousand 
years." 

Sir Thomas Maeoey (fl. 1470), the compiler and 
translator of the Morte Arthur, or History of King 
Arthur, printed by Caxton in 1485. Caxton, in his 
preface, says that Sir Tliomas Malory took the work 
out of certain books in French, and reduced it into 
English. It is a compilation from some of the most 
popular romances of the Round Table. The stylo 
deserves great praise. See also p. 32, B. 

John Fishee (1459-1535), Bishop of Rochester, 
put to death by Henry VIII., along with Sir Thomas 
More. Besides hib Latin works he wrote some 
sermons in English. 

Sir Thomas Elyot (d. 1546), an eminent 
scholar in the reign of Henry VIII., by whom he 
was employed in several embassies. He shares 
with Sir Thomas More the praise of being one of 
the earliest English prose writers of value. Ilia 
principal work is The Governor, published in 1531, 
a treatise upon education, in which he deprecates 
the ill-treatment to which boys were exposed at 
school at this period. 

John Leland (1506-1552), the eminent antiquary, 
was educated at St. Paul's School, London, and at 
Oxford and Cambridge. He received several eccle- 
siastical preferments from Henry VIII., who also 
gave him the title of the King's Antiquary. Besides 
his Latin works he wrote in English his Itinerary, 
giving an account of his travels, a work still of 
great value for English topography. 

George Cavendish (d. 1557), not Sir William, 
as frequently stated, was gentleman-usher to Car- 
dinal Wolsey, and wrote the life of the Cardinal, 
from which Shakspeare has taken many passages in 
his Henry VIII. 

John Bellenden (d. 1350), Archdean of Mo- 
ray, in the reign of James V., deserves mention as 
one of the earliest prose writers in Scotland. His 
translation of the Scottish History of Boethius, or 
Boecius (Bocce), was published in 1537. 

John Bale (1495-1563), Bishop of Ossory in Ire- 
land, was the author of several theological works, 
and of some dramatic interludes on sacred subjects 
(see p. 114). But the work by which he is best 
known is in Latin, containing an account of illus- 
trious writers in Great Britain from Japhet to th« 
year 1559. 



A. D. 155S.] THE ELIZABETH AX POETS. 71 



CHAPTER IV. 

THE ELIZABETHAN POETS (INCLUDING THE REIGN OF 
JAMES I.). A. D. 1558-1625. 

§ 1. Characteristics of the Elizabethan age of Literature. § 2. The less known 
writers of this period : Gascoigne ; Turberville ; Thomas Sackville, 
Lord Buckhurst. § 3. Edmund Spenser : his personal history ; the Shej)- 
herd's Calendar; his friendship with Harvey and Sidney ; favored by Leicester 
and Elizabeth ; disappointments at court; residence in Ireland ; misfortunes, 
and death. § 4. Analysis and criticism of the Fa^ry Queen : brilliancy of 
imagination ; defects of plan ; allusions to persons and events. § 5. Detailed 
analysis of the Second Book, or the Legend of Te7nperance. § 6. Versifica- 
tion of the poem ; adaptation of the language in the metre ; Spenser's bold- 
ness in dealing with English. § 7. Character of Spenser's genius : his minor 
works. ^8. Sir Philip Sidney: his accomplishments and heroic death: 
his Sonnets, Arcadia, and Defence of Poesy. § 9. Other leading Poets of the 
age: — (i.) Daniel; (ii.) Drayton; (iii.) Sir John Davies ; (iv.) John 
Donne; (v.) Bishop Hall; English Satire. § 10. Minor Poets: Phineas 
and Giles Fletcher ; Churchyard ; the Jesuit Southavell ; Fairfax, the 
translator of Tasso. 

§ 1. The Age of Elizabeth is characterized by features which cause 
it to stand alone in the literary history of the world. It was a period 
of sudden emancipation of thought, of immense fertility and origi- 
nality, and of high and generally diffused intellectual cultivation. 
The language, thanks to the various causes indicated in the preceding 
chapters, had reached its highest perfection ; the study and the imita- 
tion of ancient or foreign models had furnished a vast store of materi- 
als, images and literary forms, which had not yet had time to become 
commonplace and overworn. The poets and prose writers of this age, 
therefore, united the freshness and vigor of youth with the regularity 
and majesty of manhood ; and nothing can better demonstrate the 
intellectual activity of the epoch than the number of excellent works 
which have become obsolete in the present day, solely from their merits 
having been eclipsed by the glories of a few incomparable names, as 
those of Spenser in romantic and of Shakspeare in dramatic poetry. It 
will be my task to give a rapid sketch of some of the great works 
thus " darkened with the excess of light." 

§ 2. The first name is that of George Gascoigne (1530-1577), who, 
as one of the founders of the great English school of the drama, as a 
satirist, as a narrative and as a lyric poet, enjoyed a high popularity 
for art and genius. His most important production, in point of length, 
is a species of moral or satiric declamation entitled the Steel Glass, 
in which he inveighs against the vices and follies of his time. It is 
written in, blank verse, and is one of the earliest examples of that kind 



72 THE ELIZABETHAN POETS. [Chap. IV. 

of metre, so well adapted to the genius of the English language, and 
in which, independently of the drama, so many important composi- 
tions were afterwards to be written. The versification of Gascoigne in 
this work, though somewhat harsh and monotonous, is dignified and 
regular; and the poem evinces close observation of life and a lofty tone 
of morality. His career was a very active one ; he figured on the bril- 
liant stage of the court, took part in a campaign in Holland against 
the Spaniards, and has commemorated some of the unfortunate inci- 
dents of this expedition in a poem in seven-lined stanzas, entitled The 
Fruits of War ; and many of his minor compositions are well deserv- 
ing of perusal. He was an example of a type of literary men which 
abounded in England at that period, in which the active and contem- 
plative life were harmoniously combined, and which brought the acqui- 
sitions of the study to bear upon the interests of real life. 

Nearly contemporary with this poet was George Turbervile 
(1530-1594), whose writing^s exhibit a less vigorous invention than 
those of Gascoigne. He very frequently employed a peculiar modifica- 
tion of the old English ballad stanza which was extremely fashionable 
at this period. The modification consists in the third line, instead of 
being of equal length to the first, viz. of six syllables, containing eight. 
It must not, however, be understood from this that Turbervile did 
not employ a great variety of other metrical arrangements. The 
majority of his writings consist of love epistles, epitaphs, and compli- 
mentary verses. "^^^^ 

A poet whose writings, of a lofty, melancholy, and moral tone, un- 
doubtedly exerted a great influence at a critical period in the formation 
of the English literature, was Thomas Sackville, Lord Buckhurst 
(1536-1608), a person of high political distinction, having filled the ofiice 
of Lord High Treasurer. It was for his children that Ascham wrote 
the Schoolmaster. He projected, and himself commenced, a work 
entitled A Mirrour for Magistrates^ which was intended to contain a 
series of tragic examples of the vicissitudes of fortune, drawn from the 
annals of his own country, serving as lessons of virtue to future kings 
and statesmen, and as warnings of the fragility of earthly greatness 
and success. Sackville composed the Liduction (Introduction) of this 
grave and dignified work, and also the first legend or complaint, in which 
are commemorated the power and the fall of the Duke of Buckingham, 
favorite and victim of the tyrannical Richard III. The poem was 
afterwards continued by other writers in the same style, though gener- 
ally with a perceptible diminution of grandeur and effect. Such collec- 
tions of legends or short poetical biographies, in which celebrated and 
unfortunate sufferers were introduced, bewailing their destiny, or warn- 
ing mankind against crime and ambition, were frequent in literature at 
an earlier period. Chaucer's Monk's Tale, and the same poet's Legend 
of Good Women, are in plan and character not dissimilar: nay, the 
origin of such a form of composition may be traced even to the vast 
ethical collection of the Gesta Romanorum, if not to a still higher 
antiquity; for the Heroides of Ovid, though confined to the sufferings 



A. D. 1558-1599.] SPENSER. 73 

of unhappy love, form a somewhat similar gallery of examples. The 
Mirrour for Magistrates is written in stanzas of seven lines, and 
exhibits great occasional power of expression, and a remarkable force 
and compression of language, though the general tone is gloomy and 
somewhat monotonous. Some of the lines reach a high elevation 
of sombre picturesqueness, as these, of old age : — 

" His scalp all pilled, and he with eld forlore, 
His withered fist still knocking at death's door," 

which is strikingly like what Chaucer himself would have written.* 

§ 3. A period combining a scholar-like imitation of antiquity and of 
foreign contemporary literature, principally that of Italy, with the 
force, freshness, and originality of the dawn of letters in England, might 
have been fairly expected, even a priori^ to produce a great imagina- 
tive and descriptive work of poetry. The illustrious name of Edmund 
Spenser (1553-1599) occupies a place among the writers of England 
similar to that of Ariosto among those of Italy; and the union in his 
works — and particularly in his greatest work, the Fatry ^ueen — of 
original invention and happy use of existing materials, fully warrants 
the unquestioned verdict which names him as the greatest English poe< 
intervening between Chaucer and Shakspeare. His career was brilliant, 
but unhappy. Born in 1553, a cadet of the illustrious family whose 
name he bore, though not endowed with fortune, he was educated at 
the University of Cambridge, where he undoubtedly acquired an 
amount of learning remarkable even in that age of solid and substantial 
studies. He is supposed, after leaving the University, to have been 
compelled to perform the functions of domestic tutor in the North of 
England; and to have gained his first fame by the publication of the 
Shepherd's Calendar, a series of pastorals divided into twelve parts or 
months, in which, as in Virgil's Bucolics, under the guise of idjdlic 
dialogues, his imaginary interlocutors discuss high questions of morality 
and state, and pay refined compliments to illustrious personages. In these 
eclogues Spenser endeavored to give a national air to his work, by painting 
English scenery and the English climate, by selecting English names for 
his rustic persons, and by infusing into their language many provincial 
and obsolete expressions. The extraordinary superiority, in power of 
thought and harmony of language, exhibited by the Shepherd's Calen- 
dar, immediately placed Spenser among the highest poetical names of 
his day, and attracted the favor and patronage of the great. The 
young poet had been closely connected, by friendship and the com- 
munity of tastes and studies, with the learned Gabriel Harvey — a man 
of unquestionable genius, but rendered ridiculous by certain literary 
hobbies, as, for example, by a mania for employing the ancient classical 
metres, founded on quantity, in English verse; and he for some time 
infected Spenser with his own freaks. Through Harvey, Spenser 
acquired the notice and favor of the accomplished Sidney; and it was 

* For a further account of the Mirrour for Magistrates, see Notes and Illus- 
trations (A). 

7 



74 THE ELIZABETHAN FOETS. [Chap. IV. 

at Penshurst, the line mansion of the latter, that he is supposed to have 
revised the Shepherd's Calendar, which he dedicated, under the title 
of the Poet's Tear, to " Maister Philip Sidney, worthy of all titles, both 
of Chivalry and Poesy." Sidney, in his turn, recommended Spenser 
to Dudley Earl of Leicester, and the powerful favorite brought the 
poet under the personal notice of Elizabeth herself. The great queen, 
surfeited as she was with all the refinements of literary homage, certainly 
had not, among the throng of poets that filled her court, a worshipper 
whose incense arose before her altar in richer or more fragrant clouds ; 
but the poet, in his court career, naturally exposed himself to the hos- 
tility of those who were the enemies of his protectors ; and there are 
several traditions which relate the disappointments experienced by 
Spenser at the hands of the great minister Burleigh, whose influence 
on the mind of his mistress was too firmly established to be seriously 
shaken by the Queen's attachment to her favorites. Spenser has left us 
a gloomy picture of the miseries of courtly dependence. The poet 
appears to have been occasionally employed in unimportant diplomatic 
services; but on the nomination of Lord Grey de Wilton as Deputy or 
Lieutenant of Ireland, Spenser accompanied him to that country as 
secretarj^, and received a grant of land not far from Cork, which he was 
to occupy and cultivate. This estate had formed part of the domains 
of the Earls of Desmonc^, and had been forfeited or confiscated by the 
English Government. Spenser resided several years at Kilcolman 
Castle, during which timiC he exercised various important administra- 
tive functions in the government of the then newly-subjugated country. 
It was during his residence in Ireland that he composed the most im- 
portant of his works, among which the first place is occupied by his great 
poem of the Fa^ry ^ticen. About twelve years after his first establish- 
ment in the province of Munster, the flame of revolt, communicated 
from the great rebellion called Tyrone's Insurrection, which had been 
raging in the neighboring province of Ulster, spread to the region 
which surrounded Spenser's retreat. He had probably rendered him- 
self hateful to the half-savage Celtic population whom the English 
colonists had ejected and oppressed : indeed the very curious little work 
entitled A View of the State of Ireland, in which he has described the 
curious manners and customs of the indigenous race, indicates plainly 
enough that the poet shared the prejudices of his race and position. 
Kilcolman Castle was attacked and burned by the insurgents. Spenser 
and his family escaped with difficulty, and with the loss not only of all they 
possessed, but with the still more cruel bereavement of a young child, 
which was left behind and perished in the house. Completely ruined, 
and overwhelmed by so tragic an affliction, the poet returned to Lon- 
don, where he is reported to have died in the greatest poverty, forgotten 
by the court and neglected by his patrons, in 1599. ^^ was, however, 
followed to the grave with the unanimous admiration of his country- 
men, who bewailed in his death the loss of the greatest poet of his age. 
He M'-as buried Vv'ith great pomp in Westminster Abbey, near the tomb 
of Chaucer. 



A. D. 1558-1599.] SPEK8ER. 75 

§ 4. Spenser's greatest work, The Faery ^ueen^ is a poem the sub- 
ject of which is chivalric, allegorical, narrative, and descriptive, while 
the execution is in a great measure derived from the manner of Ariosto 
and Tasso. It was originally planned to consist of twelve books or 
moral adventures, each typifying the triumph of a Virtue, and couched 
under the form of an exploit of knight-errantry. The hero of the 
whole action was to be the mythical Prince Arthur, the type of perfect 
virtue in Spenser, as he is the ideal hero in the vast collection of 
medicEval legends in which he figures. This fabulous personage is sup- 
posed to become enamoured of the FaSry Queen, who appears tojiim 
in a dream ; and arriving at her court in Fairy-Land he finds her hold- 
ing a solemn feudal festival during twelve days. At her court there is 
a beautiful lady for whose hand the twelve most distinguished knights 
are rivals ; and in order to settle their pretensions these twelve heroes 
undertake twelve separate adventures, which furnish the materials for 
the action. The First Book relates the expedition of the Red-Cross 
Knight, who is the allegorical representative of Holiness, while his 
mistress Una represents true Religiojt ; and thef action of the knighf s 
exploit shadows forth the triumph of Holiness over the enchantments 
and deceptions of Heresy. The Second Book recounts the adventures 
of Sir Guyon, or Temperance ; the Third those of Britomartis — a 
female champion — or Chastity. It must be remarked that each of 
these books is subdivided into twelve cantos, consequently that the 
poem, even in the imperfect form under which we possess it, is ex- 
tremely voluminous. The three first books were published separately 
in 1590, and dedicated to Elizabeth, who rewarded the delicate flattery 
which pervades innumerable allusions in the work with a pension of 
50/. a year. After returning to Ireland Spenser prosecuted his work; 
and in 1596 he gave to the world three more books, namely, the Fourth, 
containing the Legend of Cambell and Triamond, allegorizing Friend- 
skip ; the Fifth, the Legend of Artegall, or of Justice ; and the Sixth, 
that of Sir Calidore, or Courtesy. Thus half of the poet's original 
design was executed. What progress he made in the six remaining 
books it is now impossible to ascertain. There are traditions which 
assert that this latter portion was completed, but that the manuscript 
was lost at sea ; while the more probable theory is, that Spenser had 
not time to terminate his extensive plan, but that the dreadful misfor- 
tunes amid which his life was closed prevented him from completing 
his design. The fragment consisting of two cantos of Mutability was 
intended to be inserted in the legend of Constancy, one of the books 
projected. The vigor, invention, and splendor of expression that glow 
so brightly in the first three books, manifestly decline in the fourth, 
fifth, and sixth; and it is perhaps no matter of regret that the poet 
never completed so vast a design, in which the very nature of the plan 
necessitated a monotony that not all his fertility of genius could have 
obviated. We may apply to the Faery ^ueen the paradox of Hesiod 
— " the half is more than the whole." In this poem are united and 
harmonized three different elements which at first sight would appear 



76 THE ELIZABETHAN POETS. [Chap. IV. 

trreconctlable; for the skeleton or framework of the action is derived 
from the feudal or chivalric legends; the ethical or moral sentiment 
from the lofty philosophy of Plato, combined with the most elevated 
Christian purity; and the form and coloring of the language and ver- 
sification are saturated with the flowing grace and sensuous elegance of 
the great Italian poets of the Renaissance. The principal defects of 
the Fadry ^ueen, viewed as a whole, arise from two causes apparently 
opposed, yet resulting in a similar impression on the reader. The first 
is a want of unity, involving a loss of interest in the story ; for we alto- 
gether forget Arthur, the nominal hero of the whole, and follow each 
separate adventure of the subordinate knights. Each book is therefore, 
intrinsically, a separate poem, and excites a separate interest. The 
other defect is the monotony of character inseparable from a series of 
adventures which, though varied with inexhaustible fertility, are all, 
from their chivalric nature, fundamentally similar, being either com- 
bats between one knight and another, or between the hero of the 
moment and some supernatural being — a monster, a dragon, or a 
wicked enchanter, Irf these contests, however brilliantly painted, we 
feel little or no suspense, for we are beforehand nearly certain of the 
victory of the hero ; and even if this were otherwise, the knowledge 
that the valiant champion is himself nothing but the impersonation of 
some abstract quality or virtue, would be fatal to that interest with 
which we follow the vicissitudes of human fortunes. Hardly any degree 
of genius or invention can long sustain the interest of an allegory; 
and where the intense realism of Bunyan has only partially succeeded, 
the unreal phantasmagoria of Spenser's imagination, brilliant as it 
was, could not do other than fail. The strongest proof of the justice 
of these remarks will be found in the fact that those who read Spenser 
with the intensest delight are precisely those who entirely neglect the 
moral lessons typified in his allegory, and endeavor to follow his recital 
of adventures as those of human beings, giving themselves voluntarily 
up to the mighty magic of his unequalled imagination. Another result 
flowing from the above considerations is, that Spenser, though ex- 
tremely monotonous and tiresome to an ordinary reader, who deter- 
mines to plod doggedly through two or three successive books of the 
FaGry ^ueen, is the most enchanting of poets to him who, endowed 
with a lively fancy, confines his attention to one or two at a time of his 
delicious episodes, descriptions, or impersonations. Independently of 
the general allegorical meaning of the persons and adventures, it must 
be remembered that many of these were also intended to contain allu- 
sions to facts and individuals of Spenser's own time, and particularly 
to convey compliments to his friends and patrons. Thus Gloriana, the 
Faery Queen herself, and the beautiful huntress Belphoebc, were in- 
tended to allude to Elizabeth; Sir Artegall, the Knight of Justice, to 
Lord Grey; and the adventures of the Red-Cross Knight shadow forth 
the history of the Anglican Church. In all probability a multitude of 
such allusions, now become obscure, were clear enough, when the poem 
first appeared, to those who were familiar with the courtly and political 



A. D. 1558-1599.] SPENSER. 77 

life of the time ; but the modern reader, I think, will little regret the 
dimness in which time has plunged these allusions, for they only still 
further complicate an allegory which of itself often detracts from the 
charm and interest of the narrative. 

§ 5. As a specimen of Spenser's mode of conducting his allegory, 
I will give here a rapid analysis of the Second Book, or the Legend of 
Temperance. In Canto I. the wicked enchanter, Archimage, meeting 
Sir Guyon, informs him that a fair lady, whom the latter supposes to 
be Una, but who is really Duessa, has been foully outraged by the Red- 
Cross Knight. Guyon, led by Archimage, meets the Red-Cross Knight, 
and is on the point of attacking him, when the two champions recog- 
nize each other, and, after courteous conference, part. Sir Guyon then 
hears the despairing cry of a lady, and finds Amaria, newly stabbed, 
lying beside a knight (Sir Mordant), and holding in her lap a babe with 
his hands stained by its mother's blood. After relating her story, the 
lady dies. Canto II. describes Sir Guyon's unsuccessful attempts to 
wash the babe's bloody hands. He then finds his steed gone, and pro- 
ceeds on foot to the Castle of Golden Mean, where dwell also her two 
sisters, Elissa and Perissa — Too Little and Too Much — with theii 
knights. Canto III. describes the adventures of the Boaster, Bragadoc- 
chio, who has stolen Guyon's steed, but who is ignominiously com- 
pelled to give it up, and is abandoned by Belphcebe, of whom this 
canto contains a description, of consummate beauty. In Canto IV. 
Guyon delivers Phaon from the violence of Furor and the malignity 
of the hag Occasion. Canto V. describes the combat of Guyon with 
Pyrochles, who unbinds Fury, and is then wounded by him ; and Atin 
lies to obtain the aid of Cymochles. Canto VI. gives a most rich and 
exquisite picture of the temptation of Guyon by the Lady of the Idle 
Lake. In Canto VII. is contained the admirable description of the 
Cave of Mammon, who tempts Sir Guyon with riches. The Vlllth 
Canto depicts Guyon in his trance, disarmed by the sons of Aerates, 
and delivered by Arthur. Canto IX. describes the House of Temper- 
ance inhabited by Alma. This is a most ingenious and beautifully 
developed allegory of the human body and mind, each part and faculty 
being typified. Canto X. gives a chronicle of the ancient British kings 
down to the reign of Gloriana, or Elizabeth. In the Xlth canto the 
Castle of Temperance is besieged, and delivered by Arthur. The 
Xllth and last canto of this book describes the attack of Guyon upon 
the Bower of Bliss, and the ultimate defeat of Acrasia or Sensual 
Pleasure. From this very rough and meagre analysis, which is all 
that my limits will permit, the reader may in some measure judge of 
the conduct of the fable in Spenser's great poem. 

§ 6. The versification of the work is a peculiar stanza, based upon 
the ottava rima so universally employed hy the romantic and narrative 
poets of Italy, and of which the masterpieces of Tasso and Ariosto 
furnish familiar examples. To the eight lines composing this form of 
metre, Spenser's exquisite taste and consummate ear for harmony 
induced him to add a ninth, which, being of twelve instead of, as in 
7* 



78 TUB ELIZABETHAN POETS. [Chap. IV. 

the others, ten syllables, winds up each phrase with a long, lingering 
cadence of the most delicious melody. I have already observed how 
extensively the forms of Italian versification — as in the various exam- 
ples of the sonnet and the heroic stanza — had been adopted by the 
English poets; and I have insisted, particularly in the case of Chaucer, 
on the skill with which our language, naturally rude, monosyllabic, and 
unharmonious, had been softened and melodized till it was little infe- 
rior, in power of musical expression, to the tongues of Southern Europe. 
None of our poets is more exquisitely and uniformly musical than 
Spenser. Indeed the sweetness and flowingness of his verse are sometimes 
carried so far as to become cloying and enervated. The metre he 
employed being very complicated, and necessitating a frequent recur- 
rence in each stanza of similar rhymes — namely, four of one ending, 
three of another, and two of a third — he was obliged to take consid- 
erable liberties with the orthography and accentuation of the English 
language. In doing this, in giving to our metallic northern speech the 
flexibility of the liquid Italian, he shows himself as unscrupulous as 
masterly. By employing an immense mass of old Chaucerian words 
and provincialisms, nay, even by occasionally inventing words himself, 
he furnishes his verse with an inexhaustible variety of language ; but 
at the same time the reader must remember that much of the vocabu- 
lary of the great poet was a dialect that never really existed. Its pecu- 
liarities have been less permanent than those of almost any other of 
our great writers. 

§ 7. The power of Spenser's genius does not consist in any deep 
analysis of human passion or feeling, in any skill in the delineation of 
character; but in an unequalled richness of description, in the art of 
representing events and objects with an intensity that makes them visi- 
ble and tangible. He describes to the eye, and communicates to the 
airy conceptions of allegory, the splendor and the vivacity of visible 
objects. He has the exhaustless fertility of Rubens, with that great 
painter's sensuous and voluptuous profusion of color. Among the 
most important of his other poetical writings, I must mention his 
Mother Hubbard's Tale ; his Dafhnaida, an idyllic elegy bewailing 
the early death of the accomplished Sidney; and above all his Amo- 
retti, or love poeras, the most beautiful of which is his Eptthalamium, 
or Marriage-Song on his own nuptials with the " fair Elizabeth." 
This is certainly one of the richest and chastest marriage-hymns to be 
found in the whole range of literature, combining warmth with dignity, 
the intensest passion with a noble elevation and purity of sentiment. 
Here, too, as well as in innumerable passages of the Fa^ry ^ueen, do 
we see the influence of that lofty and abstract philosophical idea of the 
identity between Beauty and Virtue, which he borrowed from the Pla- 
tonic speculations. 

§ 8, The name of Sir Philip Sidney (1554-15S6) occurs so fre- 
quently in the literary history of this age, and that illustrious man 
exerted so powerful an influence on the intellectual spirit of the epoch, 
that ouF notice of the age would be incomplete without some allusion 



"a. D. 1554-15S6.] SIR PniLiP SIDNEY. 79 

to his life, even did not the intrinsic merit of his writings give him a 
place ampng the best poets and prose-writers of the time. He united 
in his own person ahnost all the qualities that give splendor to a char- 
acter, natural as well as adventitious — nobility of birth, beauty of per- 
son, bravery, generosity, learning, and courtesy. He was almost the 
beau idtal of the courtier, the soldier, and the scholar. The Jewel of 
the court, the darling of the people, and the liberal and judicious patron 
of arts and letters, his early and heroic death gave the crowning grace 
to a consummate character. He was born in 1554, and died at the age 
of thirty-two, of a wound received in the battle of Zutphen (October 
19, 1586), fought to aid the Protestants of the Netherlands in their 
heroic struggle against the Spaniards. His contributions to the litera- 
ture of his country consist of a small collection of Sonnets, remarkable 
for their somewhat languid and refined elegance; and the prose ro- 
mance, once regarded as a manual of courtesy and refined ingenuity, 
entitled The Arcadia. Judging only by its title, many critics have 
erroneouslj^ regarded this work as a purely pastoral composition, like 
the Galatea of Cervantes, the Arcadia of Sannazzaro, and the multi- 
tude of idyllic romances which were so fashionable at that time ; but 
the narrative of Sidney, though undoubtedly written on Spanish and 
Italian models, is not exclusively devoted to pastoral scenes and descrip- 
tions. A great portion of the work is chivalric, and the grace and ani- 
mation with which the knightly pen of Sidnej'" paints the shock of the 
tourney, and the noble warfare of the chase, is not surpassed by the 
luxurious elegance of his pastoral descriptions. In the style we see 
perpetual traces of that ingenious antithetical affectation which the 
imitation of Spanish models had rendered fashionable in England, and 
which became at last a kind of PMbiis or modish jargon at the court, 
until it was ultimately annihilated by the ridicule of Shakspeare, just 
as Moliere destroyed the style ;prtcieux which prevailed in his day in 
France. One charming peculiarity of Sidney is the pure and elevated 
view he takes of the female character, and which his example power- 
fully tended to disseminate throughout the literature of his day. This" 
alone would be sufficient to prove the truly chivalrous character of .his 
mind. The story of the Arcadia, though occasionally tiresome and 
involved, is related with considerable skill; and the reader will be 
enchanted, in almost every page, with some of those happy thoughts 
and graceful expressions Avhich he hesitates whether to attribute to the 
felicity of accident or to a peculiar delicacy of fancy. Sidney also 
wrote a small tract entitled A Defence of Poesy, in which he strives to 
show that the pleasures derivable from imaginative literature are pow- 
erful aids not only to the acquisition of knowledge, but to the cultiva- 
tion of virtue. He exhibits a peculiar sensibility to the power and 
genius so often concealed in rude national legends and ballads. 

§ 9. The epoch which I am endeavoring to describe was fertile in a 
class of poets, not perhaps attaining to the highest literary merit, but 
whose writings are marked by a kind of solid and scholar-like dignity 
which will render them permanently valuable. 



80 THE ELIZABETHAN POETS. [Chap. IV. 

(i.) Such was Samuel Daniel (1562-1619), whose career seems txj 
have been tranquil and happj, and who enjoyed among his contem- 
poraries the respect merited not only by his talents, but hy a regularity 
of conduct then sufficiently rare among poets who, like Daniel, were 
connected with the stage. His works are tolerably voluminous, and all 
bear the stamp of that grave vigor of thought and dignified evenness 
of expression which, while it seldom soars into sublimity, or penetrates 
deep into the abysses of passion, is never devoid of sense and reflection. 
His most celebrated work is The History of the Civil Wars, a poem on 
the Civil Wars between the houses of York and Lancaster, in that 
peculiar style of poetical narrative and moral meditation the example 
of which had been set by Sackville's Mirrour for Magistrates, and 
which was at this time a favorite type among the literary men of 
England. Daniel's poem is in eight books, in stanzas of eight lines; 
and the talents of the writer struggle in vain against the prosaic nature 
of the subject, for Daniel closely adheres to the facts of history, which 
he can only occasionally enliven by a pathetic description or a sensible 
and vigorous reflection. His language is exceedingly pure, limpid, and 
intelligible. The poem entitled Musophilus is an elaborate defence of 
learning, cast into the form of a dialogue. The two interlocutors, 
Musophilus and Philocosmus, pronounce, in regular and well-turned 
stanzas, the usual arguments which the subject suggests. Many of 
Daniel's minor poems, as his Elegies, Epistles, Masques, and Songs, 
together with his contributions to the dramatic literature of the da^', 
justify the reputation which he possessed. Good sense, dignity, and 
an equable flow of pure language and harmonious versification, are the 
qualities which posterity will acknowledge in his writings. He is said 
to have succeeded Spenser to the post of poet laureate. "T: 

(ii.) A poet somewhat similar in general character to Daniel, but en-' 
dowed with a much greater originality, was Michael Drayton (1563- 
1631), a voluminous writer. His longest and most celebrated produc- 
tions were the topographical and descriptive poem entitled Polyolbioit, 
in thirty cantos or songs. The Barons' Wars, England's Heroical 
Epistles, The Battle of Agincourt, The Muses' Elysium, and the deli- 
jcious fancies of The Court of Fairy. The Polyolbion is a minute 
poetical itinerary of England and Wales, in which the affectionate 
patriotism of the writer has enumerated — county by county, village 
by village, hill by hill, and rivulet by rivulet — the whole surface of his 
native land; enlivening his work as he goes on by immense stores of 
picturesque legend and the richest profusion of allegory and personifi- 
cation. It is composed in the long-rhymed verse of twelve syllables, 
and is, both in design and execution, absolutely unique in literature. 
The notes attached to this work, in which Drayton wa« assisted b^f 
" that gulf of learning," the incomparable Selden, are a wonderful mass 
of curious erudition. Drayton has described his country with the pain- 
ful accurdcy of the topographer and the enthusiasm of a poet; and the 
Polyolbion will ever remain a most interesting monument of industry 
and taste. In The Barons' Wars Drayton has described the principal 



A. D. 1562-1625.] DANIEL. DRAYTON. DA VIES. 81 

events of the unhappy reign of Edward II. The poem is composed in 
the stanza of Ariosto, which Drayton, in his preface, selects as the most 
perfect and harmonious ; and the merits and defects of the work may 
be pretty accurately characterized by what has been said above concern- 
ing Daniel's poem on a not dissimilar subject. The Heroical Ef>istlc$ 
are imagined to be written by illustrious and unfortunate personages in 
English history to the objects of their love. They are therefore a kind 
of adaptation of the plan of Ovid to English annals. It was quite 
natural that a poet so fertile as Drayton, who wrote in almost every 
form, should not have neglected the Pastoral, a species of composition 
at that time in general favor. His efforts in this department are cer- 
tainly not inferior to those of any of his contemporaries, not even 
excepting Spenser himself; while in this class of his writings, as well 
as in his inimitable fairy poems, Drayton has never been surpassed. 
In the series entitled The Muses' Elysium, consisting of a series of nine 
idyls, or Nymf>hals, as he calls them, and above all in the exquisite 
little mock-heroic of Nynij)hidia, everything that is most graceful, 
delicate, quaint, and fantastic in that form of national superstition — 
almost peculiar to Great Britain — the fairy mythology, is accumulated 
and touched with a consummate felicity. The whole poem of Nym^ 
fhidia is a gem, and is almost equalled by the Epithalamium in the 
Vlllth Nymphal, on the marriage of "ourTita to a noble Fay." It is 
interesting to trace the use made of these graceful superstitions in the 
Midsummer Nighfs Dream and the Merry Wives of Windsor. 

(iii.) The vigorous versatility of the age, founded on solid and ex- 
tensive acquirements, is well exemplified in the poems of Sir John 
Davies (1570-1626), a learned lawyer and statesman, and Chief Justice 
of Ireland, who has left two works of unusual merit and originality, on 
subjects so widely different that their juxtaposition excites almost a 
feeling of ludicrous paradox. The subject of one of them, Nosct 
Teipsum, is the proof of the immortality of the soul; that of the other, 
entitled Orchestra, the art of dancing. The language of Davies is pure 
and masculine, his versification smooth and melodious ; and he seems 
to have communicated to his metaphysical arguments in the first poem, 
something of the easy grace and rhythmical harmony of the dance, 
while he has dignified and elevated the comparatively trivial subject of 
the second by a profusion of classical and learned allusions.* The Nosce 

* On the Nosce Teipsum, Mr. Hallam remarks, •* Perhaps no language can 
produce a poem, extending to so great a length, of more condensation of 
thought, or in which fewer languid verses will be found. Yet according to some 
definitions, the Nosce Teipsum is wholly unpoetical. inasmuch as it shows no 
passion and little fancy. If it reaches the heart at all, it is through the reason. 
But since strong argument, in terse and correct style, fails not to give us pleasure 
in prose, it seems strange that it should lose its effect when it gains the aid of 
regular metre to gratify the ear and assist the memory. Lines there are in 
Davies which far outweigh much of the descriptive and imaginative poetry of the 
last two centuries, whether Ave estimate them by the pleasure they impart to us, 
or by the intellectual vigor they display. Experience has shown that the facul- 



82 THE ELIZABETHAN POETS. [Chap. IV. 

Teipsum, publ'^h-d in 1599, is written in four-lined stanzas of heroic 
lines, a measure which was afterwards honored by being taken as the 
vehicle of one of Drjden's early efforts ; but Drjden borrowed it more 
immediately from the Gondil?eri of Davenant. The Orchestra is com- 
posed in a peculiarly-constructed stanza of seven lines, extremely well 
adapted' to express the ever-varying rhythm of those dancing move- 
ments which the poet, by a thousand ingenious analogies, traces 
throughout all nature. 

(iv.) The unanimous admiration of contemporaries placed the genius 
of John Donne (1573-1631), Dean of St. Paul's, in one of the foremost 
places among the men of letters of his day. His life, too, full of vicissi- 
tudes, and his devotion of great and varied powers, first to scholastic 
study and retirement, then to the service of the state in active life, and 
last to the ministry of the Church, by familiarizing him with all the 
phases of human life, furnished his mind with rich materials for poetry 
of various kinds. When entering upon the career of the public service, 
as secretary to the Treasurer Lord Ellesmere, he made a secret mar- 
riage with the daughter of Sir George Moor, a lady whom he had long 
ardently loved, and the violent displeasure of whose family involved 
Donne in severe persecution. Though distinguished in his youth for 
wit and gayety, he afterwards, under deep religious conviction, embraced 
4;he clerical profession, and became as remarkable for intense piety as 
he had previously been for those accomplishments which had made 
him the Pico di Mirandola of his age. The writings of Donne are very 
voluminous, and consist of love verses, epigrams, elegies, and, abo-Q 
all, satires, which latter department of his works is that by which ne 
is now principally remembered. As an amatorj^ poet he has been justly 
classed by Johnson among the metaphysical poets — writers in whom 
the intellectual faculty obtains an enormous and disproportionate 
supremacy over sentiment and feeling. These authors are ever on 
the watch for unexpected and ingenious analogies ; an idea is racked 
into every conceivable distortion ; the most remote comparisons, the 
obscurest recesses of historical and scientific allusion, are ransacked to 
furnish comparisons and illustrations which no reader can suggest to 
himself, and which, when presented to him by the perverse ingenuity 
of the poet, fill him with a strange mixture of astonishment and shame, 
like the distortions of the posture-master or the tricks of sleight-of-hand. 
It is evident that in this cultivation of the odd, the unexpected, and 
the monstrous, the poet becomes perfectly indifferent to the natural 
graces and tender coloring of simple emotion; and in his incessant 
search after epigrammatic turns of thought, he cares very little whether 
reason, taste, and propriety be violated. This false taste in literature 
was at one time epidemic in Spain and Italy, from whence, in all proba- 

ties peculiarly deemed poetical are frequently exhibited in a considerable degree, 
but very few have been able to preserve a perspicuous brevity without stiffness 
or pedantry (allowance made for the subject and the times), in metaphysical 
reasoning, so successfully as Sir John Davies." — i^Lit. ii. 129.) 



A. D. 1573-1625.] DONNE. HALL 83 

bilitj, it infected English poets, who have frequently rivalled their 
models in ingenious absurdity. The versification of Donne is singu- 
larly harsh and tuneless, and the contrast between the ruggedness of 
his expression and the far-fetched ingenuity of his thought adds to the 
oddity of the effect upon the mind of the reader, by making him con- 
trast the unnatural perversion of immense intellectual activity with the 
rudeness and frequent coarseness both of the ideas and the expression. 
In Donne's Satires, of which he wi'ote seven, and in his Epistles to 
friends, we naturally find less of this portentous abuse of intellectual 
legerdemain, for the nature of such compositions implies that they are 
written in a more easy and colloquial strain ; and Donne has occasion- 
ally adapted, with great felicity, the outlines of Horace and Juvenal to 
the manners of his own time and country. Pope has translated some 
of Donne's Satires into the language of his own time, under the title of 
*'The Satires of Dr. John Donne, Dean of St. Paul's, versified." 

(v.) But the real founder of Satire in England, if we are to judge by 
the relative scope and completeness of his works in this department, 
was Joseph Hall (1574-1656), Bishop of Norwich, a man equally 
remarkable for the learning, dignitj", and piety with which he fulfilled 
his pastoral functions, and the heroic resignation with which he sup- 
ported poverty and persecution when deprived of them. He produced 
six books of Satires, under the title of Virgide^niarum (/. e. a harvest 
or collection of rods, a word modified from the similar term Vhidc- 
tm'arum, vintage), which form a complete collection, though they were 
not all published at the same time, the first three books, quaintly en- 
titled by their author toothless Satires, having appeared in 1597, while 
a student at Cambridge; and the latter three, designated biting- Satires, 
two years afterwards. Some of these excellent poems attack the vices 
and affectations of literature, and others are of a more general moral 
application. For the vivacity of their images, the good sense and good 
taste which pervade them, the abundance of their illustrations, and 
the ease and animation of the style, they are deserving of high admi- 
ration. Read merely as giving curious pictures of the manners and 
society of the day, they are very interesting in themselves, and throw 
frequent light on obscure passages of the contemporary drama. Hall, 
like Juvenal, often employs a peculiar artifice which singularlj^ heightens 
the piquancy of his attacks, viz. that of making his secondary allusions 
or illustrations themselves satirical. Some of these satires are ex- 
tremely short, occasionally consisting of only a few lines. His versi- 
fication is always easy, and often elegant ; and the language offers an 
admirable union of the unforced facility of ordinary conversation with 
the elevation and conciseness of a more elaborate style.* 

§ 10. Space will permit only a rapid allusion to several secondary 
poets who adorned this period, so rich in variety and vigor. The tAvo 
brothers, Piiineas Fletcher and Giles Fletcher, who lived, approx- 

* To Donne and Hall should be added the name of John Marston, the 
dramatic poet, as one of the chief satirists of the Elizabethan era. In 1599 he 
published three books of Satires, under the title of Tfie Sco^rg^ of Villabiy. 



84 



NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 



[Chap. IV. 



imatelj, between the years 1584 and 1650, and who were connected by 
blood with their great contemporary the dramatist, produced, the 
former one of those long elaborate allegorical works which had been 
so fashionable at the beginning of the century, and in which science 
called in the aid of fiction, as in the case of Davies's poem on the Im- 
mortality of the Soul. This was The Purple Island, a minute descrip- 
tion of the human body, with all its anatomical details, which is 
followed by an equally searching delineation of the intellectual faculties. 
Giles Fletcher's work is Chrisfs Victory and Triumph, in which, as in 
his brother's production, we see evident traces of the rich and musical 
diction, as well as of the lofty and philosophical tone, of the great 
master of allegory, Spenser. With a mere notice of the noble religious 
enthusiasm that prevails in the writings of Churchyard, and of the 
unction and truly evangelical resignation of the unfortunate Jesuit 
Southwell, and a word of praise to the faithful and elegant transla- 
tion of Tasso by Fairfax, I must conclude the present chapter.* 



For a fuller account of these poets, see Notes and Illustrations (B), 



^% 



NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 






A.— THE MIRROUR FOR MAGISTRATES. 

(See p. 72.) 
The history of this work, which is the most im- 
portant poem in English literature between Surrey 
and Spenser, and which was very popular in its 
day, deser\'e8 a few words. It was projected, as 
stated above (p. 72), by Thomas Sackville, Lord 
Bathurst, about the year 1557, and its plan was to 
^ve an account of all the illustrious but unfortunate 
characters in English history, from the conquest to 
the end of the fourteenth century. The poet de- 
scends, like Dante, into the infernal regions, con- 
ducted by Sorrow. Sackville, however, wrote only 
the Induction and the legend of the fall of the Duke 
of Buckingham, the vision of Richard IH., and 
then committed the completion of the work to 
RiOHAED Balpavyne and Geokoe Feereks. 
They were both men of learning; the former an 
ecclesiastic, and the author of a metrical version of 
Solomon's Song, which he dedicated to Edward VI. ; 
the latter a lawyer, who sat iu Parliament in the 
reign of Henry VIH., and who tilled theofHce of the 
Lord of Misrule in the palace of Greenwich at 
the Christmas revels appointed by Edward VI., in 
1553. Baldwyue and Ferrers called in the assist- 
ance of several other vn-iters, among whom were 
Churchyard and Phayer, the translator of Virgil, 
who took their materials chiefly from the newly 
published clironicles of Fabyan and Hall. The 
wars of York and Lancaster were their chief re- 
source. The work was first published in 1559 ; and 
after passing through three editions was reprinted 
in 1587, with the addition of many new lines, under 
tlie conduct of John HiGgins, a clergjman, and 
tlie author of some school books, who wrote a new 
induction iu the octave stanza and a new series of 



lives, from Albanact, the youngest son of Brutus, 
and the first king of Albanie, or Scotland, continued 
to the Emperor Caracalla. The legend of Cordelia, 
King Lear's youngest daughter, is the most striking 
part of Higgins's performance. The Alii-rour was 
recast, with new additions, in IGIO, by the poet 
Richard Niccols. It continued to enjoy great popu- 
larity till superseded by the growing reputation of a 
new poetical chronicle, entitled Albion's England, 
published before the beginning of the reign of 
James L 

Warton, who has devoted considerable space to 
the Mirrourfor Magistrates, remarks, " It is reason- 
able to suppose, that tlie publication of the JUirrour 
for Magistrates enriched the stores, and extended 
the limits, of our drama. These lives are so many 
tragical speeches In character. They suggested 
scenes to Shakspeare. Some critics imagine that 
Historical Plays owed their origin to this collec- 
tion. At least it is certain that the writers of thi« 
Mirrour were the first who made a poetical use of the 
English chronicles recently compiled by Fabyan, 
Hall, and Hollinshed, which opened a new field of 
subjects and events; and, I may add, produced a 
great revolution in the state of popular knowledge. 
For before those elaborate and voluminous compila- 
tions appeared, the history of England, which had 
been shut up in the Latin narratives of the monkish 
annalists, was unfamiliar and almost unknown to 
the general reader." 

B. — MINOR POETS IN THE REIGNS OF 
ELIZABETH AND JAMES I. 

"It was said bj' Ellis that nearly one hundred 
names of poets belonging to tlie reign of Elizabeth 
might be eniunerated, besides many that have left 



Chap. IV.] NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 



85 



no memorial except their songs. This, however, 
was but a moderate computation. Drake {Shak- 
$peare and his Times, i. 674) has made a list of 
more than two hundred." (llallam, Lit. ii. 133.) 
The following is a list of the most important of 
these poets, in addition to those already described 
in the text : — 

TuoMAS CnuBCHTABD (1520-16M), a voluminous 
poet, was bom at Shrewsbury, and served as a 
soldier in the armies of Henry Vlll., Mary, and 
Elizabeth. He experienced many vicissitudes of 
fortune. Mr. D'Israeli describes him "as one 
of those unfortunate men who have written poetry 
all their days, and lived a long life to complete the 
misfortyne." 

Richard Edwabds (1523-1566), also known as a 
dramatic poet, was born in Somersetshire, educated 
at Oxford, and was appointed by Queen Elizabeth 
master of the singing boys of the royal chapel. He 
was the chief contributor and framcr of a poetical 
collection called The Paradise of Dainty Devices, 
which was not published till 1576, ten years after 
his death. It was probably undertaken in conse- 
quence of the great success of Tottel's Miscellany 
(see p. 70). The Paradise of Dainty Devices has 
been republished in the " British Biographer," by 
Sir Egerton Brydges, who remarks that the " poems 
do not, it must be admitted, belong to the higher 
classes ; they are of the moral and didactic kind. 
In their subject there is too little variety, as they 
deal very generally in the commonplaces of ethics, 
such as the fickleness and caprices of love, the 
falsehood and instability of friendship, and the 
vanity of all human pleasures. But many of these 
Rre often expressed with a vigor which would do 
credit to any era." The poems of Edwards are the 
best in this collection, and the one entitled Aman- 
tium Iras is reckoned by Brydges one of the most 
beautiful in the language. The poems which are 
next in merit in this collection are by Lord Vaux 
(see p. 70, A). The writer who holds the third place 
is William Hunnis (fl. 1550), one of the gentle- 
men of Queen Elizabeth's chapel, and the author 
of some moral and religious poems printed sepa- 
rately. 

William Wabneb (1558-1609), a native of 
Oxfordshire, an attorney of the Common Pleas, and 
the author of Albion's England, first published in 
1586, and frequently reprinted. This poem, which 
is written in the fourteen-syllable line, is a his- 
tory of England from the Deluge to the reign of 
James I. It supplanted in popular favor the Mirrottr 
for Magistrates. The style of the work was much 
admired in its day, and Meres, in his " Wit's Treas- 
ury," says, that by Warner's pen the English tongue 
was " mightily enriched and gorgeously invested 
in rare ornaments and resplendent habiliments." 
The tales are chieHy of a merry cast, and many of 
them indecent. 

TuoMAS Watson (1560-1392), the aufhor of some 
sonnets, which have been much admired. 

Joshua Sylvester (1563-1618), a merchant, 
who translated The Divine Weeks and Works of the 
French poet Du Bartas, and obtained in his day 
the epithet of the Silver-tongued. The work weut 
through seven editions, the last being published in 
1641. It was one of Milton's early favorites. 

Aetuue Beooke (ob. 1503), the author of The 

8 



Tragical History of Romeo and Juliet, published ia 
1562, a metrical paraphrase of the Italian novel of 
Bandello, on which Shakspeare founded his tragedy 
of Romeo and Juliet. Brooke's poem is one of con- 
siderable merit. 

Robert Southwell (1560-1595), bom in Nor- 
folk, of Catholic parents, educated at Douay, became 
a Jesuit, and returned to England in 1584 as a mis- 
sionary. He was arrested in 1592, and was executed 
at Tyburn in 1595, on account of his being a Romish 
priest, though not involved in any political plots. 
His poems breathe a spirit of religious resignation, 
and are marked by beauty of thought and expres- 
sion. Ben Jonson said that Southwell " had so 
written that piece of his. The Burning Babe, ho 
(Jonson) would have been content to destroy 
many of his." 

Thomas Stobek (1587-1604), of Christ Church, 
Oxford, the author of a poem on The Life and 
Death of Thomas Wolsey, Cardinal, published in 
1599, in which he followed closely Cavendish's Life 
of Wolsey. 

Nicholas Breton (1558-1624 ?), the author of a 
considerable number of poems, and a contributor 
to a collection called England's Helicon, published 
in 1600, which comprises many of the fugitive 
pieces of the preceding twenty years. Sidney, 
Raleigh, Lodge, Marlowe, Greene, are among the 
other contributors to this collection. 

Francis DA^^soN (1575-1618), the eon of the 
secretary Davison, deserves mention as the editor 
and a contributor to the Poetical Rhapsody, pub- 
lished in 1602, and often reprinted. Like " Eng- 
land's Helicon " it ia a collection of poems by 
various writers. 

George Chapman (1557-1634), also a dramatic 
poet, but most celebrated for his translation of 
Homer, which preserves much of the fire and spirit 
of the original. It is written in the fourteen-sjUa- 
ble verse so common in the Elizabethan era. " He 
would have made a great epic poet," says Charles 
Lamb, " if, indeed, he has not abundautly shown 
himself to be one; for his Homer is not so properly 
a translation as the stories of Achilles and Ulysses 
rewritten. The earnestness and passion which lie 
has put into every part of these poems would be 
incredible to a reader of more modem transla- 
tions." Chapman was born at Hitching Hill, iu 
Hertfordshire, His life was a prosperous one, and 
he lived on intimate terms with the great men of 
his day. 

EmvABi) Vebe, Earl of Oxfobd (1534-1604), 
the author of some verses in the Paradise of Dainty 
Devices. He sat as Great Chamberlain of England 
upon the trial of Mary, Queen of Scots. 

Henbt Constable (1568?-1604?), was cele- 
brated for his sonnets, published in 1592, under the 
name of Diana. It is conjectured that he was the 
same Henry Constable who, for his zeal in the 
Catholic religion, was long obliged to live in a state 
of banishment. 

Sir Fulk Greville, Lord Brooke (1554- 
1621), a friend of Sir Philip Sidney, was made 
Chancellor of the Exchequer, and a peer in 1621. 
He died by the stab of a revengeful servant, in 1628. 
His poems are a Treatise on Humane Learning, a 
Treatlte of Wars, a Treatise of Monarchy, a Trea- 
tise of Religion, and an Inqmsitiou upon Fame aiui 



86 



NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS, 



[Chap. IV. 



Fortune. He also wrote two tragedies, entitled 
Alaham and Mustapha, neither of which was ever 
acted, being written after t'le model of the ancients, 
•with choruses, &c. Southey remarked that Dryden 
appeared to him to have formed his tragic style 
more upon Lord Brooke than upon any other 
author. 

Samuel Rowlands (d. 1634), whose history is 
quite unknown, except that he was a prolific pam- 
plilcteer in the reigus of Elizabeth, James I., and 
Charles I. Campbell remarks that "his descrip- 
tions of contemporary follies have considerable 
humor. I think he has afiorded in the story of 
Smug and Smith a hint to Butler for his apologue 
of vicarious justice, in the case of the brethren who 
h.iuged a ' poor weaver that was bed-rid,' instead 
of the cobbler who had killed an Indian. 

' Not out of malice, but mere zeal, 
Because he was an Infidel.' 

lludibras, Part. ii. Canto ii. 1. 420." 

Sir John Hakbington (1561-1612), bom at 
Kelston, near Bath, in Somersetshire, and celebrated 
as the first English translator of Ariosto's Orlando 
Furioso, published in 1501. Harrington also wrote 
a book of epigrams, and several other works. His 
father, John Harrington (1534-1582) was the author 
of some poems published in the " Nugse Antiquoa." 
He was imprisoned in the Tower under Queen 
Mary, for holding correspondence with Elizabeth. 

Edward Fairfax (fl. 1600), the translator of 
Tasso's Jerusalem, was a gentleman of fortune. 
The first edition was published in 1600, and was 
dedicated to Queen Elizabeth. This translation is 
nmch superior to that of Ariosto by Sir John Har- 
rington. " It has been considered as one of the 
earliest works in which the obsolete English which 
had not been laid aside in the days of Sackville, 
and which Spenser affected to presen'e, gave way 
to a style not much difl'ering, at least in point of 
single words and phrases, from that of the present 
day." But this praise, adds Mr. Hallam, is equally 
due to Daniel, to Drayton, and to others of the later 
Elizabethan poets. The first five books of Tasso 
had been previously translated by C'AKEW in 1594. 
This translation is more literal than that of Fairfax, 
but far inferior in poetical spirit. 

TiioMAS Lodge (1556-1625?), also a physician 
and a dramatic poet, was born in Lincolnshire, was 
educated at Trinity College, Oxford, and first ap- 
peared as an author about 1580. Ten of Lodge's 
poems are contained in the " English Helicon," 
published in 1600. To his poem entitled Rosalynde : 
Eupheus Golden Legacie (1590), Shakspeare was 
indebted for the plot and incidents of his drama. 
As You Like It. For his dramatic works, see p. 126. 

TllOMAS Carew (1580-1639), a poet at the court 
of Cliarlcs I., where he held the office of gentleman 
of the Privy-chamber, and ser\'er in ordinary to the 
king. His poems, which are mostly short and 
amatory, were greatly admired in their day. 
Campbell remarks that "the want of boldness and 
expansion in Carcw's thoughts and subjects excludes 
him from rivalship with great poetical names ; nor 
is it difficult, even within the narrow pale of his 
works, to discover some faults of aft'ectation, and 
of still more objectionable indelicacy. But among 
the poets who have walked in the same limited path 
he is pre-eminently beautiful, and deservedly ranks 



among the earliest of those who gave a cultivated 
grace to our lyrical strains." 

Sib Henby Wotton (156a-1639), a distinguished 
diplomatist in the reigns of Elizabeth and James I. 
He was secretary to the Earl of Essex ; but upon 
the apprehension of his iiatron, he left the kingdom. 
He returned upon the accession of James, and was 
appointed ambassador to Venice. Later in life ho 
was appointed Provost of Eton, and took deacon's 
orders. His principal writings were published in 
1661, under the title of Reliquiie Wottoniante, with 
a memoir of his life by Izaak Walton. His liter- 
ary reputation rests chiefly upon his poems. His 
Elements of Architecture were long held in esteem. 
The iieliquiee also contain several other prose 
works. 

Richard Barnfield (b. 1574), educated at 
Brasenose College, Oxford, wrote several minor 
poems, distinguished by elegance of versification. 
His ode, " As it fell upon a day," which was re- 
printed in the " English Helicon " under the signa- 
ture of " Ignoto," in 1600, had been falsely attributed 
to Shakspeare in a volume entitled " The Passionate 
Pilgrim" (1559). 

Richard Corbett (1582-1635), Bishop of Ox- 
ford, and afterwards of Norwich, celebrated as a 
wit and a poet in the reign of James I. His poems 
were first collected and published in 1647. The best 
known are his Journey into France and his Fare- 
well to the Fairies. They are lively and witty. 

Sib John Beaumont (1582-1628), elder brother 
of Francis Beaumont the dramatist, wrote in the 
heroic couplet a poem entitled Bosworth Field, 
which was published by his son in 1629. 

Phineas Fletcher (1.584-1650), and his younger 
brother Giles Fletcher, mentioned in the text 
(p. 84), deseire a fuller notice; and we cannot do 
better than quote Mr. Hallam's discriminating 
criticism respecting them. " An ardent admiration 
for Spenser inspired the genius of two young broth- 
ers, Phineas and Giles Fletcher. The first, very 
soon after the queen's death, as some allusions to 
Lord Essex seem to denote, composed, though ho 
did not so soon publish, a poem, entitled The Purple 
Island. By this strange name he expressed a sub- 
ject more strange; it is a* minute and elaborate 
account of the body and mind of man. Through 
five cantos the reader is regaled with nothing but 
allegorical anatomy, in the details of which Phineas 
seems tolerably skilled, evincing a great deal of 
ingetmity in diversifying his metaphors, and in 
presenting the delineation of his imaginary island 
with as much justice as possible to the allegory 
without obtruding it on the reader's view. In tlie 
sixth canto he rises to the intellectual and moral 
faculties of the soul, which occupy the rest of the 
poem. From its nature it is insuperably weari- 
some, yet his language is ofteq»very poetical, his 
versification harmonious, his invention fertile. 
. . . Giles Fletclier, brother of Phineas, in 
Christ's Victory and Triumph, though his subject 
has not all the unity that might be desired, had a 
manifest superiority in its choice. Each uses a 
stanza of his own; Phineas one of seven lines, 
Giles one of eight. This poem was published in 
1610. Each brother alludes to the work of the 
other, which must be owing to the alterations mada 
by Phineas in his Purple Island, written probablj 



Chap. IV.] 



NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 



87 



the first, but not pnblished, I believe, till 1633. 
Giles seems to have more vigor than his elder 
brother, but less sweetness, less smoothness, and 
more affectation in his style. This, indeed, is 
deformed by words neither English nor Latin, but 
simply barbarous, such as, elamping, eblazon, 
deprostrate, pu)-pured, glitterand, and many others. 
They both bear much resemblance to Spenser; 
Giles sometimes ventures to cope with him, even in 
celebrated passages, such as the description of the 
Cave of Despair. And he has had the honor, in 
turn, of being followed by Milton, especially in the 
first meeting of our Saviour with Satan in the Para- 
dise Regained. Both of these brothers are deserv- 
ing of much praise ; they were endowed with minds 
eminently poetical, and not inferior in imagination 
to any of their contemporaries. But an injudicious 
taste, and an excessive fondness for a style which 
the public was rapidly abandoning, that of allcgori- 
r--l personification, prevented tlieir powers from 
Deing effectively displayed." 

ScoTTisn Poets. 

SIB Alexajtdeb Scott (fl. 1562) wrote several 
amatory poems, which have procured him the title 
of the Scottish Anacreon. 

SiK RlciLVED >L4ITLAND (149G-1586), more cele- 
brated as a collector of the poems which bear his 
name than as an original poet, but his own com- 
positions are marked by good taste. 

Alexander Montgomery, the author of an 
allegorical poem called The Chei-ry and the Sloe, 
published in 1597, which long continued to be a 
favorite, and the metre of which was adopted by 
Burns. 

Ai.KXANDEB Hums (d. 1G09), a clergyman. 



published in 1599 a volume of Hi/mna or Sacred 
Sotigs. 

King James VI. published, in 1584, a volume of 
poetry, entitled Essayes of a I'renticc in the Divine 
Art of Poesie, with the Rewlis and Cantelia to be 
pursued and avoided. 

Earl of Ancbum (1578-1654), wrote some son- 
nets of considerable merit. 

George Bucilvnan (150&-1582), celebrated for 
his Latin version of the Psalms, is spoken of among 
the prose writers (p. 107). 

Dr. Abtuur Johnston (1587-l&il), also cele- 
brated for his Latin version of the Psalms, wa3 
bom near Aberdeen, studied medicine at Padua, 
and was appointed physician to Charles I. He died 
at Oxford. According to the testimony of Mr. 
Ilallam, "Johnston's Psalms, all of which are in 
the elegiac metre, do not fall short of those of Bu- 
chanan, either in elegance of style or correctness of 
Latinity." Johnston also wrote several other Latin 
poems. 

Earl of Stirling (1580-1640), published in 
1637 a collation of his works entitled Recreations 
with the Muses, consisting of heroic poems and 
tragedies, of no great merit, but Campbell observes 
that " there is elegance of expression in a few of hia 
shorter pieces." One of his tragedies is on the 
subject of Julius Cassar. 

William Dbummond of Hawthornden (1585- 
1649), the most distinguished of the Scottish po- 
ets of this era, was the friend of Ben Jonson and 
Drayton. Jonson visited him in Hawthornden in 
1619. His best poems are his sonnets, which Mr. 
Hallam describes as "polished and elegant, flfca 
from conceit and bad taste, in pure, unblemished 
English." 



88 PHILOSOPHY AND PROSE LITERATURE. [Chap. V. 



CHAPTER V. 

THE NEW PHILOSOPHY AND PROSE LITERATURE IN THE 
REIGNS OF ELIZABETH AND JAMES I. 

A. D. 1558-1625. 

§ 1. Introduction. ^ 2. Chroniclers: Stow, Hollinshed, Speed. $ 3. Sir 
Walter Raleigh. § 4. Collections of Voyages and Travels : Haklxjyt, 
PuKCHAS, Davis. § 5. The English Church : Hooker's Ecclesiastical Pol- 
ity. § 6. Life of Loud Bacon. § 7. Services of Bacon : the scholastic 
philosophy. § 8. History of previous attempts to throw off the yoke of the 
scholastic philosophy. § 9. Bacon's Instauratio Magna. § 10. First and 
Second Books : De Augmentis Scientiarum and the Novum Organon : the 
Inductive Method. § IL Third Book : Silva Silvarum : collection and classi- 
fication of facts and experiments: remaining books. § 12. Estimate of 
Bacon's services to science. § 13. His Essaya and other English writings. 
$ 14. Burton's Anatomy of Melancholy. Lord Herbert of Cherbury. 
§ 15. Thomas Hobbes. 

§ 1. The principal object of the present chapter is to trace the nature 
aftd the results of that immense revolution in philosophy brought about 
bj the immortal writings of Bacon. It will, however, be unavoidable, 
in accordance with the chronological order generally adopted in our 
work, to sketch the character of other authors, of great though inferior 
importance, who flourished at the same time. Of the general intellec- 
tual character of the Age of Elizabeth, something has already been 
said: it maj- be observed that much of the peculiarly /r«c//crt/ charac- 
ter which distinguishes the political and philosophical literature of this 
time is traceable to the general laicising- of the higher functions of the 
public service, and is not one of the least valuable results of the Prot- 
estant Reformation. The clergy had no longer the monopoly of that 
learning and those acquirements which during the Catholic ages secured 
them the monopoly of power : and the vigorous personal character of the 
great queen combined with her jealousy of dictation to surround her 
throne with ministers chosen for the most part among the middle classes 
of her people, and to whom she accorded unshaken confidence, while 
she never allowed them to obtain any of that undue influence which 
the weaknesses of the woman experienced from unworthy favorites like 
Leicester and Essex. Such men as Burleigh, Walsingham, and Sir 
Thomas Smith belong to a peculiar type and class of statesmen ; and 
their administration, though less brilliant and dramatic than might be 
found at other periods of our history, was incontestably more wise and 
patriotic than can easily be paralleled. 

§ 2. In the humble but useful department of historical chronicles a 
few words must be said on the labors of John Stow (1525-1605) and 



I 



A. D. 1552-1618.] SIR WALTER RALEIGH. 89 

Raphael Hollinshed (d. 1580),* the former of whom, a London citi- 
zen of very slight literary pretensions, devoted the whole of his long 
life to the task of collecting materials for numerous chronicles and 
descriptions of London. The latter undertook a somewhat similar 
work, though intended to commemorate the history of England gen- 
erally. From Hollinshed, it may be remarked, Shakspeare drew the 
materials for many of his half-legendary, half-historical pieces, such as 
Macbeth, King Lear, and the like ; and it is curious to observe the 
mode in which the genius of the great poet animates and transfigures 
the flat and prosaic language of the old chronicler, whose very words 
he often quotes textually. Striking examples of this will be found in 
Henry V. and Henry VI. 

§ 3. The most extraordinary and meteor-like personage in the liter- 
ary history of this time is Sir Walter Raleigh (1552-1618), the 
brilliancy of whose courtly and military career can only be equalled by 
the wonderful variety of his talents and accomplishments, and by the 
tragic heroism of his death. He was born in 1552, and early attracted 
the favor of Elizabeth by an act of romantic gallantry, which has fur- 
nished the theme of a famous anecdote ; and both by his military 
exploits and his graceful adulation, he long maintained possession of 
her capricious favor. He highly distinguished himself in the wars in 
Ireland, where he visited Spenser at Kilcolman, and was consulted by 
the great poet on the Fa&ry ^ueen, and no less as a navigator and 
adventurer in the colonization of Virginia and the conquest of Guiana. 
He is said to have first introduced the potato and the use of tobacco 
into England. On the accession of James I. he seems to have been, 
though without the least grounds, involved in an accusation of high 
treason connected with the alleged plot to place the unfortunate Ara- 
bella Stuart upon the throne, and he was confined for manyj'ears in 
the Tower under sentence of death. Proposing a new expedition to 
South America, he was allowed to undertake it; but, it proving unsuc- 
cessful, the miserable king, in order to gratify the hatred of the Span- 
ish court, which Raleigh's exploits had powerfully excited, allowed him 
to be executed under the old sentence in 1618. During his imprison- 
ment of twelve years Raleigh devoted himself to literary and scientific 
occupations ; he produced, with the aid of many learned friends, 
among whom Jonson was one, a History of the World, which will 
ever be regarded as a masterpiece of English prose. The death of 
few illustrious men has been accompanied by so many traits of heroic 
simplicity as that of Raleigh. f 

* Stow's chief works are a Summary of English Chronicles, first published in 
1565, his Annals in 1573, and his Survey of London in 1598. To the names of 
Stow and Hollinshed should be add^d that of John Speed (1552-1629), who 
published in 1614 A History of Great Britain^ from the earliest times to the 
reign of James I. 

t Raleigh's History comes down only to the Second Macedonian "War. Re- 
specting its style, Hallam remarks that " there is little now obsolete in the 
words of Raleigh, nor, to any great degree, in his turn of phrase ; the periods, 
8* 



90 PHIL SOPHY AND PROSE LITERATURE. [Chap. V. 

§ 4. The immense outburst of intellectual activity which renders the 
middle of the sixteenth century so memorable an epoch in the histor_y 
of philosophy, was not without a parallel in the rapid extension of 
geographical knowledge. England, which gave birth to Bacon, the 
successful conqueror of new worlds of philosophical speculation, was 
foremost among the countries whose bold navigators explored unknown 
regions of the globe. Innumerable expeditions, sometimes fitted out 
by the state, but far more generally the undertakings of private specu- 
lation, exhibited incredible skill, bravery, and perseverance in opening 
new passages for commerce, and in particular in the endeavor to solve 
the great commercial and geographical problem of finding a north- 
west passage to the eastern hemisphere. The commercial rivalry 
between England and Spain, and afterwards between England and 
Holland, generated a glorious band of navigators, whose exploits, par- 
taking of the double character of privateering and of trade, laid the 
foundation of that naval skill which rendered England the mistress of 
the seas. Drake, Frobisher, Davies, Raleigh, were the worthy ances- 
tors of the Nelsons, Cooks, and Franklins. The recital of their dan- 
gers and their discoveries was frequently recorded by these hardy 
navigators in their own simple and picturesque language ; and the 
same age that laid the foundation of the naval greatness of our coun- 
try, produced also a branch of our literature which is neither the least 
valuable nor the least characteristic — the narration of maritime dis- 
covery. Hakluyt (1533-1616), PuRCHAS (d. 1628), and Davis (d. 1605) 
have given to posterity large collections of invaluable materials con- 
cerning the naval adventure of those times : the first two authors 
were merely chroniclers and compilers ; the third was himself a famous 
navigator, the explorer of the Northern Ocean, and gave his name to 
the famous strait which serves as a monument of his glory. The lan- 
guage in all these works is simple, grave, and unadorned; the narra- 
tive, in itself so full of the intensest dramatic excitement, has the charm 
of a brave old seaman's description of the toils and dangers he has 
passed ; and the tremendous dangers so simply encountered with such 
insignificant means are painted with a peculiar mixture of professional 
sang-froid and child-like trust in Providence. The occasional acts of 
cruelty and oppression, which are to be mainly attributed to a less 
advanced state of civilization, are more than redeemed by the indom- 
itable courage and invincible perseverance of these illustrious nav- 
igators. 

§ 5. Among the various Christian sects generated by the great 
break-up of the Catholic Church at the Reformation, the Anglican 
confession appears to occupy nearly a central position, equidistant 
from the blind devotion to authority advocated by the Romish com- 
munion, and the extreme abnegation of authoritj^ proclaimed by the 

where pains have heen taken with them, show that artificial structure which we 
find in Sidney and Hooker ; he is less pedantic than most of his contempora- 
ries, seldom low, never affected." 



A. b. 1553-1598.] HOOKER. 91 

Calvinistic theologians. The Church of England is essentially a com- 
promise between opposite extremes ; and it is perhaps to this modera- 
tion that it owes its solidity and its influence : it is unquestionably this 
moderation which recommended it to so reasonable and practical a 
people as the English. On its first appearance on the stage of history 
it was exposed to the most violent hostility' and persecution at the hands 
of the ancient faith which it had supplanted; but no sooner had it 
become firmly established as the dominant and official religion of the 
state, than it was exposed to attacks from the very opposite point of 
the theological compass — attacks under whose violence it temporarily 
succumbed. The Catholic persecutions of Mary's reign were followed 
by the gradually increasing hostility of Puritanism, which had been 
insensibly acquiring more and more power from the middle of the 
reign of Elizabeth. The great champion of the principles of Anglican- 
ism against the encroachments of the Genevan school of theology \vas 
Richard Hooker (1553-1598), a man of evangelical piety and of 
vast learning, sprung from the humblest origin, and educated in the 
University of Oxford. He was for a long time buried in the obscurity 
of a country parsonage ; but his eloquence and erudition obtained for 
him the eminent post of Master of the Temple in London, where his 
colleague in the ministry, Walter Travers, propounded doctrines in 
church government which, being similar to those of the Calvinistic 
confession, were incompatible with Hooker's opinions. The mildness 
and modesty of Hooker's character, rendering controversy and dispu- 
tation insupportable to him, urged him to implore his ecclesiastical 
superior to remove him from his place, and restore him to the more 
congenial duties of a country parish : and it was here that he executed 
that great work which has placed him among the most eminent of the 
Anglican divines, and among the best prose writers of his age. The 
title of this work is A Treatise on the Laws of Ecclesiastical Polity, 
and its object is to investigate and define the fundamental principles 
upon which is founded the right of the Church to the obedience of its 
members, and the duty of the members to pay obedience to the Church. 
But, though the principal object of this book is to establish the relative 
rights and duties of the Anglican Church in particular, and to defend 
its organization against the attacks of the Roman Catholics on the one 
hand and the Calvinists on the other, Hooker has. dug deep down into 
the eternal granite on which are founded all law, all obedience, and all 
right, political as well as religious. The Ecclesiastical Polity is a mon- 
ument of close and cogent logic, supported by immense and varied 
erudition, and is written in a style so free from pedantry, so clear, vig- 
orous, and unaffected, as to form a remarkable contrast with the gen- 
erality of theological compositions, then generally overloaded with 
quotation and deformed by conceits and antithesis. It is to be regret- 
ted that this excellent work was never finished by the author, or, at 
least, if finished, has not descended to us as Hooker intended it to do, 
for the Sixth Book is supposed, though certainly the composition of 
the same author, to be a fragment of a quite different work. 



92 PniLOSOPHT AND PROSE LITERATURE. [ChapJV. 

§ 6. The political life of Franqis Bacon (1561-1626) forms, with his 
purely intellectual or philosophical career, a contrast so striking that it 
would be difficult to find, in the records of biographical literature, any- 
thing so vividly opposed. He was the son of Sir Nicholas Bacon, long 
a favorite and trusted minister of Queen Elizabeth, in whose service he 
held the high oflice of Keeper of the Great Seal. Sir Nicholas was a 
fair specimen of that peculiar class of able statesmen with whom that 
great sovereign surrounded her administration, a type which we find 
repeated in Burleigh, Walsingham, Ellesmere, and Smith — men of 
great practical knowledge of the world, of powerful though not per- 
haps inventive faculties, and of great prudence and moderation in their 
religious opinions, a point of much importance at a period when the 
recent Reformation in the Church had exposed the country to the 
agitations arising from theological disputes. Francis Bacon was the 
nephew of Burleigh, Sir Nicholas and the great Chancellor having 
married two sisters ; and the boy gave earnest, from his tenderest 
childhood, of those powers of intellect and that readiness of mind 
which afterwards distinguished him among men. He was born in 1561 ; 
and received a careful education, completed at an age even for that 
time exceedingly early, in the University of Cambridge. He is said, 
even as a boy, to have shown plain indications of that inquiring spirit 
which carried him to the investigation of natural laws, and a gravity 
and presence of mind which attracted the attention of the Qiieen ; and 
while studying at Cambridge it is reported that he was struck with the 
defects of the philosophical methods, founded upon the scholastic or 
Aristotelian system, then universally adopted in the investigations of 
science. Then, perhaps, first dawned upon his mind the dim outline 
of that great reformation in philosophy which he was afterwards des- 
tined to bring about. His father, who certainly intended to devote him 
to the public service, probably in the department of diplomacj', sent 
him to travel on the Continent; and a residence of about four years in 
France, Germany, and Italy, not only gave him the opportunity of 
acquiring a remarkable stock of political knowledge respecting the 
state and views of the principal European courts, but rendered him the 
still more valuable service of enlarging his knowledge of mankind, and 
making him acquainted with the state of philosophy and letters. He 
was recalled from the Continent by the death of his father in 1580, and 
found himself under the necessity of entering upon some active career. 
He appears to have felt that the natural bent of his genuis inclined to 
the study of science; and he begged his kinsman and natural protector, 
Burleigh, to obtain for him the means of devoting himself to those 
pursuits. The Chancellor, however, who was jealous of his nephew's 
extraordinary abilities, which he feared might eclipse or at least inter- 
fere with the talents of his own son Robert, just then entering upon 
that brilliant career which he so long followed, treated Francis with 
great harshness and indifference, and insisted on his embracing the 
profession of the law. He became a student of Gray's Inn ; and that 
wonderful aptitude, to which no labor was too arduous and no subtlety 



X 



A. D. 1561-1626.] LORD BACON-. 93 

too reftned, very soon made him the most distinguished r% Jvotatc of his 
daj, and an admired teacher of the legal science. The jealousy of his 
kinsmen the Cecils, both father and son, appears to have veiled itself, 
in some degree perhaps unconsciously, under the pretext that Bacon 
was a flighty and bookish young man, too fond of projects and theories 
to be likely to become a useful servant of the State. But the counte- 
nance which was refused to Bacon by his uncle and cousin, he obtained 
from the generous and enthusiastic friendship of Essex, who used all 
his influence to obtain for his friend the place of Solicitor-General, and 
when unsuccessful in this attempt, consoled him for the disappointment 
by the gift of a considerable estate. During this period of his life 
Bacon continued to rise rapidly, both in professional reputation as a 
lawyer, and in fame both for philosophy and eloquence. He sat in the 
House of Commons, and gave evidence not only of his unequalled 
powers as a speaker, but also of that cowardly and interested subservi- 
ence to the Court which was the great blot upon his glory, and the 
cause of his ultimate disgrace. There is nothing in the whole range 
of history more melancholy than to trace this sublime intellect truc- 
kling to every favorite who had power to help or to hurt, and betraying 
in succession all those to whom self-interest for the moment had 
attached him. After submitting, with a subserviency unworthy of a man 
of the le^t spirit, to the haughty reproaches of the Cecils, he aban- 
doned t^ir faction for that of Essex, whom he flattered and betrayed. 
On the unhappy Earl's trial for high treason, in consequence of his 
frantic conspiracy and revolt. Bacon, though he certainly felt for his 
benefactor as warm an attachment as was compatible with a mean and 
servile nature, not only abandoned his former friend, but volunteered 
with malignant eagerness among the foremost ranks of his enemies, 
and employed all his immense powers, as an advocate and a pam- 
phleteer, to precipitate his ruin and to blacken his memory. Bacon 
was not in fact a malignant man : he was a needy, flexible, unscrupu- 
lous courtier; and showed in his after career the same ignoble readiness 
to betray the duties of the judge as he now did in forgetting the obli- 
gations of the friend. 

On the death of Elizabeth, and the transfer of the crown to James I. 
in 1603, Bacon, who had been gradually and steadily rising in the ser- 
vice of the State, attached himself first to Carr, the ignoble favorite of 
that prince, and afterwards to Carr's successor, the haughty Bucking- 
ham. He had been knighted at the coronation, and at the same time 
married Alice Barnham, a young lady of considerable fortune, the 
daughter of a London alderman. He sat in more than one parliament, 
and was successively made Solicitor-General, Attorney-General, and at 
last, in 1617, chiefly by the interest of Buckingham, Lord High Chan- 
cellor of England, and Baron Verulam, which latter title was three 
years afterwards replaced by the still higher style of Viscount St. 
Alban's. Though the whole of his public career was stained with acts 
of the basest servility and corruption, it is not uninstrudive to mention 
that Bacon was one of the last, if not the very last, ministers of the law 



94 PHILOSOPHY AND PROSE LITERATURE. [Chap. V. 

in England to employ and to defend the application of torture in judicial 
procedure. Bacon occupied the highest office of justice during four 
jears, and exhibited, in the discharge of his great functions, the wisdom 
and eloquence which characterized his mind, and the servility and 
meanness which disgraced his conduct; and on the assembling of Par- 
liament in 1621, the House of Commons, then filled with just indignation 
against the insupportable abuses, corruptions, and monopolies coimte- 
nanced by the Government, ordered a deliberate investigation into vari- 
ous acts of bribery of which the Chancellor was accused. The King 
and the favorite, though ready to do all in their power to screen a 
criminal who had alwaj^s been their devoted servant, were not bold 
enough to face the indignation of the whole country; and the investi- 
gation was allowed to proceed. It was carried on before the House of 
Lords, and it resulted in his conviction, on the clearest evidence, of 
many acts of gross corruption as a judge.* Independently of the cases 
thus proved, it cannot be doubted that there must have existed numer- 
ous others which were not inquired into. Bacon himself fully confessed 
his own guilt; and in language which under other circumstances would 
have been profoundly pathetic, threw himself on the indulgence of his 
iudges. The sentence, though it could not be otherwise than severe, 
was evidently just : it condemned him to be deprived of his place as 
Chancellor, to pay a fine of 40,000/. (a sum, be it remarked, not 
amounting to half the gains he was supposed to have corruptly made), 
to be imprisoned during the King's pleasure in the Tower, to be ever 
after incapable of holding any office in the State, and to be incapacitated 
fi-om sitting in Parliament or coming within twelve miles of the Court. 
In imposing so severe a punishment it must be recollected that Bacon's 
judges well knew that much of it would be mitigated, or altogether 
remitted ; and the result showed how just were these anticipations. The 
culprit was almost immediately released from confinement; the fine 
was not only remitted by royal favor, but by the manner of its remission 
converted into a sort of protection of the fallen Chancellor against the 
claims of his importunate creditors ; and he was speedily restored to 
the privilege of presenting himself at Court. There can be no doubt 
that James and his favorite had felt great reluctance in abandoning 
Bacon to the indignation of Parliament, and that they only did so in 
the conviction that any attempt to save their servant would not only 
have been inevitably unsuccessful, but must have involved the Govern- 
ment itself in odium, without in the least alleviating the lot of the 
guilty Chancellor. 

The life of the fallen minister was prolonged for five years after his 
severe but merited disgrace ; and these years were passed in intriguing, 
flattering, and imploring pecuniary relief in his distresses. During his 
whole life he had lived splendidly and extravagantly. His taste for 

* Many of the charges against Bacon, related in the text, have been proved 
by Mr. Hepworth Dixon, in his " Personal History of Lord Bacon," to be un- 
founded. 



A. D. 1561-1626.] LORD BACON, 95 

magnificence in houses, gardens, and trains of domestics had been such 
as may generally be found in men of lively imagination ; and it was to 
escape from the perpetual embarrassments which are the natural con- 
sequences of such tastes that he in all probability owed that gradual 
deadening of the moral sensCj and that blunting of the sentiment of 
honor and self-respect, which were the original source of his crimes. 
Common experience shows with what fatal rapidity rises the flood of 
corruption in the human heart when once the first barriers are removed. 
Bacon's death took place, after a few days' illness, on the 9th April, 
1626, and was caused by a cold and fever caught in travelling near 
London, and in part is attributed to an experiment which he tried, of 
preserving meat by freezing. He got out of his carriage, bought a 
fowl, and filled the inside of the bird with snow, which then lay thick 
upon the ground. In doing this he received a chill, which was aggra- 
vated by being put into a damp bed at Lord Arundel's house near 
Highgate. Bacon was buried, by his own desire, by his mother's side 
in St. Michael's Church, St. Alban's, near which place was the magnif- 
icent seat of Gorhambury, constructed by himself. He had no children, 
and left his afi'airs involved in debt and confusion. 

§ 7. In order to appreciate the services which Bacon rendered to the 
cause of truth and knowledge, and which have placed his name foremost 
among the benefactors of the human race, two precautions are indis- 
pensable. First we must form a distinct idea of the nature of the phil- 
osophical methods which his system of investigation supplanted for- 
ever in physical research ; and, secondly, v/e must dismiss from our 
minds that common and most erroneous imagination that Bacon was 
an inventor or a discoverer in any specific branch of knowledge. His 
mission was not to teach mankind a philosophy, but to teach them 
how to philosophize. A contrary supposition would be as gross an 
error as that of the clown who imagined that Newton was the discoverer 
of gravitation. The task which Bacon proposed to himself was loftier 
and more useful than that of the mere inventor in any branch of 
science ; and the excellence of his method can be nowhere more clearly 
seen than in the instances in which he has himself applied it to facts 
which in his day were imperfectly known or erroneously explained. 
The most brilliant name among the ancient philosophers is incontesta- 
bly that of Aristotle : the immensity of his acquirements, which ex- 
tended to almost every branch of physical, political, moral, and Intel* 
lectual research, and the powers of a mind unrivalled at once for grasp 
of view, and subtlety of discrimination, have justly secured to him the 
very highest place among the greatest intellects of the earth : he was 
indeed, in the fullest sense, 

" '1 maestro di color che sanno." 

But the instrumental or mechanical part of his system, the mode by 
which he taught his followers that they could arrive at true deductions 
in scientific investigation, when falling into inferior hands, was singu- 
larly liable to be abused. That careful examination of nature, and 



96 PHILOSOPHY AND PROSE LITERATURE. [Chap. V. 

that wise and cautious prudence in the application to particular phe- 
nomena, of general formulas of reasoning, which are so perceptible in 
the works of the master, were very soon neglected by the disciples, 
who, finding themselves in possession of a mode of research which 
seemed to them to promise an infallible correctness in the results ob- 
tained, were led, by their very admiration for the genius of Aristotle, 
to leave out of sight his prudent reserve in the employment of his 
method. The synthetic mode of reasoning flatters the pride of human 
intellect by causing the truths discovered to appear the conquest made 
by its unassisted powers ; and the great part played in the investigation 
by those powers renders the method peculiarly susceptible of that kind 
of corruption which arises from over-subtlety and the vain employment 
of words. Nor must we leave out of account the deteriorating influence 
of the various nations and epochs through which the ancient deductive 
philosophy had been handed down from the time of Aristotle himself 
till the days of Bacon, when its uselessness for the attainment of truth 
had become so apparent that a great reform was inevitable — had been 
indeed inevitable from a much more remote period. The acute, dispu- 
tatious spirit of the Greek character had already from the very first 
commenced that tendency towards vain word-catching which was still 
further accelerated in the schools of the Lower Empire. It was from 
the schools of the Lower Empire that the Orientals received the philo- 
sophical system already corrupted, and the mystical and over-subtle 
genius of the Jewish and Arabian speculators added new elements of 
decay. It was in this state that the doctrines were received among the 
monastic speculators of the Middle Ages, and to the additional errors 
arising from the abstract and excessive refinements of the cloister were 
added those proceeding from the unfortunate alliance between the phil- 
osophical system of the Schools and the authority of the Church. The 
solidarity established between the orthodoxy of the Vatican and the 
methods of philosophy was indirectly as fatal to the authority of the 
one as ruinous to the value of the other. In this unhallowed union 
between physical science and dogmatic theology, the Church, by its ar- 
rogation to itself of the character of infallibility, put it out of its own 
power ever to recognize as false any opinion that it had once recognized 
as true; and theology being in its essence a stationary science, while 
philosophy is as inevitably a progressive one, the discordance between 
the two ill-matched members of the union speedily struck the one with 
impotence and destroyed the influence of the other. Independently, 
too, of the sources of corruption which I have been endeavoring to 
point out, the Aristotelian method of investigation, even in its pure and 
normal state, had been always obnoxious to the charge of infertility, 
and of being essentially stationary and unprogressive. The ultimate 
aim and object of its speculations were, by the attainment of abstract 
truth, to exercise, purify, and elevate the human faculties, and to carry 
the mind higher and higher towards a contemplation of the Supreme 
Good and the Supreme Beauty : the investigation of nature was merely 
a means to this end. Practical utilitj wa« regarded as a result which 



A. D. 1561-1626.] LORD bacon: 97 

might or might not be attained in this process of raising the mind to a 
certain ideal height of wisdom; but an end which, whether attained or 
not, was below the dignity of the true sage. Now, the aim proposed bj 
the modern philosophy is totally different; and it follows that the 
methods by which that end is pursued should be as different. Since 
the time of Bacon all the powers of human reason, and all the energies 
of invention and research, have been concentrated on the object of im- 
proving the happiness of human life — of diminishing the sufferings 
and increasing the enjoyments of our imperfect existence here below — 
of extending the empire of man over the realms of nature — in shoit, of 
making our earthly state, both physical and moral, more happy. This 
is an aim less ambitious than that ideal virtue and that impossible wis- 
dom which were the aspiration of the older philosophy; but it has the 
advantage of being attainable, while the experience of twenty centuries 
had sufficiently proved that the lofty pretensions of the former system 
had been followed by no corresponding results ; nay, that the incessant 
disputations of the most acute and powerful intellects, during so many 
generations, not only had left the greatest and most vital questions 
where they had found them at first, but had degraded philosophy to the 
level of an ignoble legerdemain. 

§ 8. Many attempts had been made, by vigorous and independent 
minds, long before the appearance of Bacon, to throw off the yoke of 
the scholastic philosophy; but that yoke was so riveted with the 
shackles of Catholic orthodoxy, that the efforts, being made in coun- 
tries and at epochs when the Church was all-powerful, could not possi- 
bly be successful : all they could do was to shake the foundations of an 
intellectual tyranny which had so long weighed upon mankind, and to 
prepare the way for its final overthrow. The Reformation, breaking 
up the hard-bound soil, opened and softened it so that the seeds of true 
science and philosophy, instead of falling upon a rock, brovight forth fruit 
a hundred fold. Long and splendid is the list of the great and liberal 
minds who had revolted against the tyranny of the schools before the 
appearance of the New^hilosophy. In the writings of that wonderful 
monk, the anticipator of his great namesake — in the controversy 
between the Nominalists and Realists — in the disputes which preceded 
the Reformation — the standard of revolt against the tyranny of the 
ancient system had been raised by a succession of brave and vigorous 
hands ; and though many of these champions had fallen in their con- 
test against an enemy intrenched in the fortifications of religious 
orthodoxy, and though the stake and the dungeon had apparently 
silenced them forever, nevertheless the tradition of their exploits had 
formed a still-increasing treasury of arguments against orthodox 
tyranny. England, in the reign of Elizabeth and James I., was pre- 
cisely the country, and a country precisely in the particular state, in 
which the great revolution in philosophy was possible; and it was a 
most providential combination of circumstances and qualities that was 
concentrated in Francis Bacon so as to make him, and perhaps him 
alone, the apostle of the new philosophical faith. 
9 



98 PHILOSOPHY AND PROSE LITERATURE, [Chap. V 

§ 9. The great object which Bacon proposed to himself, in proclaim- 
ing the advantages of the Inductive Method, was fruit : the improve- 
ment of the condition of mankind ; and his object being different from 
that of the elder philosophers, the mode by Avhich it was to be attained 
was different likewise. From an early age he had been struck with the 
defects, with the stationary and unproductive character, of the Deduc- 
tive Method ; and during the whole of his brilliant, agitated, and, alas ! 
too often ignominious career, he had constantly and patiently labored, 
adding stone after stone to that splendid edifice which will enshrine his 
name when his crimes and weaknesses, his ambition and servility, shall 
be forgotten. His philosophical sj^stem is contained in the great work, 
or rather series of works, to which he intended to give the general title 
of Instauratio Mag7ia, or Great Institution of True Philosophy. The 
whole of this neither was nor ever could have been executed by one 
man or by the labors of one age ; for every new addition to the stock 
of human knowledge, would, as Bacon plainly saw, modify the conclu- 
sions, though it would not affect otherwise than by confirming the 
soundness, of the philosophical method he propounded. The histatc- 
ratio was to consist of six separate parts or books, of which the follow- 
ing is a short synoptical arrangement : — 

I. Partitiones Scientiarum : a summary or classification of all 
knowledge, with indications of those branches which had been 
more or less imperfectly treated. 
II. Novu7n Orgamcm : the New Instrument, an exposition of the 
methods to be adopted in the investigation of truth, with indi- 
cations of the principal sources of human error, and the reme- 
dies against that error in future. 

III. Pha:nome7ia Universi, sive Historia Naturalis et Experimentalis 

ad condendam Philosophiam : a complete body of well-ob- 
served facts and experiments in all branches of human knowl- 
edge, to furnish the raw material upon which the new method 
was to be applied, in order to obtain results of truth. 

IV. Scala hitellectus, sive Filum Labyrinthi : rules for the gradual 

ascent of the mind from particular instances or phenomena, 
to principles continually more and more abstract; and warn- 
ings against the danger of advancing otherwise than grad- 
ually and cautiously. 
V. P/'i?(^/'(?;;2/, sive Anticipationes Philosophiam Secundoe; anticipa- 
tions or forestallings of the New Philosophy, t. e. such truths 
as could be, so to say, provisionally established, to be after- 
wards tested by the application of the New Method. 
VI. PJiilosophia Secunda, sive Scientia activa; the result of the just, 
careful, and complete application of the methods previously 
laid down to the vast body of facts to be accumulated and 
observed in accordance with the rules and precautions con- 
tained in the Ild and IVth parts. 

Let us compare the position of Bacon, with respect to science in gen- 



A. D. 1561-1626.] 



LORD bacon: 



99 



eral, to that of an architect invited to undertake the reconstruction of 
a palace, ancient and splendid, but which, in consequence of the lapse 
of time and the changes of the mode of living, is found to be in a ruin- 
ous or uninhabitable condition. What would be the natural mode of 
proceeding adopted bj an enlightened artist under these circumstances? 
He would, I think, make it his first care to draw an exact plan of the 
edifice in its present state, so as to form a clear notion of the extent, 
the defects, and the conveniences of the building as it stands; and not 
till then would he proceed to the demolition of the existing edifice. He 
would next prepare such instruments, tools, and mechanical aids, as 
would be likelj to render the work of construction more rapid, certain, 
and economical. Thirdly, he would accumulate the necessary mate- 
rials. Fourthly, he would provide the ladders. Lastly, he would begin 
to build : but should the edifice be so vast that no human life would be 
long enough to terminate it, he would construct so much of it as would 
suflice to give his successors an idea of the general plan, style, and dis- 
position of the parts, and leave it to be completed by future genera- 
tions. It will easily, I think, be seen, how accurately the mode of pro- 
ceeding in Bacon's great work corresponds with common sense and 
with the method followed by our imaginary architect. Bacon is the 
builder; the great temple of knowledge is the edifice, which the labors 
of our race have to terminate according to his plan. 

§ 10. Let us now inquire what portion of this project Bacon was able 
to execute. The first portion, consisting of a general view of the state 
of science at his time, with an explanation of the causes of its sterility 
and unprogressiveness, was published in 1605, in an English treatise, 
bearing the title of Tke Proficience atid Advancement of Learning: 
this was afterwards much altered and extended, and republished in 
Latin, in 1623, under the title De Augtnentis Scientiarum. The Novum 
Organum, the most important portion of Bacon's work, is that in which 
the necessity and the principles of the Inductive Method are laid down 
and demonstrated. It is, in 
short, the compendium of the 
Baconian logic. «, It was pub- 
lished in Latin, in 1620. The 
fundamental difference be- 
tween the method recommend- 
ed by Bacon and that which 
had so long been adopted by 
philosophers, m^y, I think, be 
rendered clear by a compari- 
son of the accompanying little 
diagrams : — 

In the first of these the point A may be conceived to represent some 
general principle upon which depend any number of detached facts or 
phenomena b, c, d, e, f. Now let it be supposed that we are seeking 
for the explanation of one or all of these phenomena ; or, in other 




100 PHILOSOPHY AND TROSE LITERATURE. [Chap. V. 

words, desirous of discovering the law upon which thej depend. It is 
obvious that we may proceed as the arithmetician proceeds in the solu- 
tion of a problem involving the search rfter an unknown quantity or 
number; that is, we mziy suppose the law of nature to be so and so, 
and applying this law to one or all of the phenomena within our obser- 
vation, see if it corresponds with them or not. If it does, we conclude, 
so far as our examination has extended, that we have hit upon the true 
result of which we are in search : if not, we must repeat the process, 
as the arithmetician would do in a like case, till we obtain an answer 
that corresponds with all the conditions of the problem : and it is evi- 
dent, that the greater the number of separate facts to which we suc- 
cessfully apply our theoretical explanation, the greater will be the 
probability of our having hit upon the true one. Now this application 
of a pre^stablished theory to the particular facts or phenomena is pre- 
cisely the signification of the word synthesis. It is obvious that the 
march of the mind in this mode of investigation is from the general to 
the particular — that is, in the direction of the arrow, or downvjards — 
whence this mode of investigation is styled deduction, or a descent from 
the general law to the individual example. Similarly, the Aristotelian 
method has received the designation a priori, because in it the estab- 
lishment of a theory, or, at all events, the provisional employment 
of a theory, is prior to its application in practice, just as in meas- 
uring an unknown space we previously establish a rule, as of a foot, 
yard, &c., which we afterwards apply to the space to be so deter- 
mined. In the diagram all the elements are the same as in the pre- 
ceding one, with the exception that here the process follows a precisely 
opposite direction — that is, from a careful comparison of the different 
facts, the mind travels gradually upwards, with slow and cautious 
advances, from bare phenomena to more general consideration, till at 
last it reaches some point in which all the phenomena agree, and this 
point is the law of nature or general principle, of which we were in 
search. As synthesis signifies composition, so analysis signifies resolu- 
tion ; and it is by a continual and cautious process of resolution that 
\hQ. vavciA ascends — in the direction marked by the arrow — from the 
particular to the general. This ascending process is clearly designated 
by the term induction, which signifies an ascetit from particular instances 
to a general law; and the term a posteriori denotes that the theory, 
being evolved from the examination of the individual facts, is neces- 
sarily posterior or subsequent to the examination of those facts. 

All human inventions have their good and their bad sides, their 
advantages and their defects : and it is only by a comparison between 
the relative advantages and defects that we can establish the superiority 
of one system or mode of action over another. On contemplating the 
two methods of which I have just been giving a very rough and popvilar 
explanation, it will be at once obvious that the Deductive mode enables 
us, luhen the right theory has been hit upon, to arrive at absolute, or 
almost mathematical truth; while analysis, being dependent for its 
accuracy upon the number of phenomena which furnish the materials 



A. D. 1561-1626.] LORD BACON. 101 

for our induction, can never arrive at absolute certainty; inasmuch as 
it IS impossible to examine all the phenomena of a single class, and as 
while any phenomena remain unexamined we never can be certain that 
the discovery of some new fact will not completely overset our conclu- 
sions. The utmost that we can arrive at, therefore, by this route, is a 
very high degree of probability — a degree which will be higher in 
proportion as it is founded upon a greater number of instances, and 
attained by a more careful process of sifting. But the nature of the 
human mind is such that it is practically incapable of distinguishing 
between a very high probability and an absolute certainty ; at least the 
latter is able to produce upon the reason the same amount of conviction 
— in some cases, perhaps, even a greater amount — than even an abso- 
lute certainty. If we consider, therefore, the enormous number of 
chances against any given a priori deduction being the right one, — for, 
as in an arithmetical px'oblem, there can be only one correct solution, 
while the number of possible incorrect solutions is injEinite, — and 
observe that till all the possible phenomena have been submitted to 
the synthetic test we never can be sure that we have the right theory, 
we shall easily agree that the possible certainty of a theory is dearly 
bought when compared with the far greater safety of the analytical 
method of reasoning, which, keeping fast hold of nature at each step 
of its progress, has the possibility, nay, even the certainty, of correcting 
its errors as they may arise. 

The most important portion of the whole Instauratio is the Novum 
Organum, in which Bacon lays down the rules for the employment of 
Induction in the investigation of truth, and points out the origin and 
remedies of the errors which most commonly oppose us in our search. 
The earlier philosophers, and particularly Aristotle, assigning a 
great and almost unlimited efficacy in this research to the intellectual 
faculties alone, contented themselves with perfecting those logical 
formulas, among which the syllogism was the principal, by whose aid, 
as by the operation of some infallible instrument, they conceived that 
that result would assuredly be attained ; and gave rules for the legitimate 
employment of their syllogism, pointing out the means of detecting 
and guarding against fallacies or irregularities in the expression oithQiv 
reasoning. Bacon went far deeper than this, and showed that the most 
dangerous and universal sources of human error have their origin, not 
in the illegitimate employment of terms, but in the weaknesses, the 
prejudices, and the passions of mankind, exhibited either in the race or 
the individual. He classifies these sources of error, which in his vivid 
picturesque language he calls Idols or false appearances, in four cate- 
gories ; the Idols of the Tribe, of the Den, of the Market-place, of the 
Theatre. Under the first he warns us against those errors and prejudices 
which are common to the whole human race, the tribe to which we all 
belong; the idols of the Den are tlftse which arise from the particular 
circumstances of the individual, as his country, his age, his religion, 
his profession, or his personal character; the errors of the Market-place 
are the result of the universal habit of using terms the meaning of 
9* 



102 PniLOSOPnr AND PROSE LITERATURE. [Chap. V. 

which we have either not distinctly agreed on, or which we do not 
clearly understand. These terms are used in the interchange of 
thought, as money is passed from hand to hand in the market; and we 
accept and transfer to others coins whose real value we have not taken 
the trouble to test. The idols of the Theatre are the errors arising 
from false systems of philosophy, which dress up conceptions in unreal 
disguises, like comedians upon the stage. . We may compare the precau- 
tions of the older logic to that of a physician who should direct his 
efforts to the getting rid of the external efflorescence of a disorder, and 
should think his duty performed when he had purified the skin, though 
perhaps at the cost of driving in the disease and rendering it doubly 
dangerous. Bacon, like the more enlightened practitioner, sought out 
the deep-seated constitutional source of the malady ; it is to that that 
he addresses his treatment, certain that when the internal cause is 
removed, the symptoms will vanish of themselves. 

§ 11. Of the Third Book Bacon has given only a specimen, intended 
to show the method to be adopted in collecting and classifying facts 
and experiments; for in a careful examination of facts and experiments 
consists the whole essence of his induction, and in it are concealed the 
future destinies of human knowledge and power. Bacon contributed 
to this portion of the work a History of the Winds, of Life and Death, 
written in Latin ; and a collection of experiments in Physics, or, as he 
calls it, Naturarl History in English. This portion of the work is alone 
sufficient to show how small are Bacon's claims or pretensions to the 
character of a discoverer in any branch of natural science, and how 
completely he was under the influence of the errors of his day ; but at 
the same time it proves the innate merit of his method, and the power 
of that mind which could legislate for the whole realm of knowledge, 
and for sciences yet unborn. To the English fragment he gives the title 
of Silva Silvarum, i. e. a collection of materials. 

The Fourth Book, Scala Intellecttis, of which Bacon has given but 
a brief extract, was intended to show the gradual march to be followed 
hy induction, in ascending from the fact perceptible to the senses to 
principles which were to become more and more general as we advance ; 
and the author's object was to warn against the danger of leaping ab- 
ruptly over the intermediate steps of the investigation. Qf the Fifth 
Bqo'k he wrote only a preface, and the Sixth was never commenced. 

§ 12. Of the soundness and the fertility of Bacon's method of inves- 
tigation, the best proof will be a simple and practical one : we have 
only to compare the progress made by humanity in all the useful arts 
during the two centuries and a half since induction has been generally 
emploj-ed in all branches of science, with the progress made during the 
twenty centuries which elapsed between Aristotle and the age of Bacon. 
It is no exaggeration to say that in the shorter interval that progress 
has been ten times greater than in tne longer. That this progress is in 
any degree attributable to any superiority of the human intellect in 
modern times is a supposition too extravagant to deserve a moment's 
attention. Never did humanity produce intellects more vast, more 



A. D. 1561-1626.] LORD BACON. 103 

penetrating, and more active, I will not saj than Aristotle himself, but 
than the series of great men who wasted their powers in abstract ques- 
tions which never could be solved, or in the sterile subtleties of 
scholastic disputation. We may remark, too, as a strong confirmation 
of the truth of what we are saying, that in those sciences which are 
independent of experiment, and proceed by the eflbrts of reasoning and 
contemplation alone, — as theology, for instance, or pure geometry, — 
the ancients were fully as far advanced as w^e are at this moment. 
The glory of Bacon is founded upon a union of speculative power with 
practical utility which were never so combined before. He neglected 
nothing as too small, despised nothing as too low, by which our happi- 
ness could be augmented ; in him, above all, were combined boldness 
and prudence, the intensest enthusiasm, and the plainest common sense. 
He could foresee triumphs over nature far surpassing the wildest dreams 
of imagination, and at the same time warn posterity against the most 
trifling ill consequences that would proceed from a neglect of his rules. 
It is probable that Bacon generally wrote the first sketch of his works 
in English, but afterwards caused them to be translated into Latin, 
which was at that time the language of science, and even of diplomacy. 
He is reported to have employed the services of many young men of 
learning as secretaries and translators : amomg these the most remark- 
able is Hobbes, afterwards so celebrated as the author of the Lev I'aiAan. 
The style in which the Latin books of the Lnstauratio were given to the 
world, though certainly not a model of classical purity, is w^eighty, 
vigorous, and picturesque. 

§ 13. Bacon's English w^ritings are very numerous : among them 
unquestionably the most important is the little volume entitled Essays, 
the first edition of which he published in 1597, and which was several 
times reprinted, with additions, the last in 1625. These are short 
papers on an immense variety of subjects, from grave questions of 
morals and policy down to the arts of amusement and the most trifling 
accomplishments ; and in them appears, in a manner more appreciable 
to ordinary intellects than in his elaborate philosophical works, the 
wonderful union of depth and variety which characterizes Bacon. The 
intellectual activity they display is literally portentous ; the immense 
multiplicity and aptness of unexpected illustration is only equalled by 
the originality with which Bacon manages to treat the most worn-out 
and commonplace subject, such, for instance, as friendship or garden- 
ing. No author was ever so concise as Bacon; and in his mode of 
writing there is that remarkable quality which gives to the style of 
Shakspeare such a strongly-marked individuality; that is, a combina- 
tion of the intellectual and imaginative, the closest reasoning in the 
boldest metaphor, the condensed brilliancy of an illustration identified 
with the development of thought. It is this that renders both the 
dramatist and the philosopher at once the richest and the most concise 
of writers. Many of Bacon's essays, as that inimitable one on Studies, 
are absolutely oppressive from the power of thought compressed into 
the smallest possible compass. Bacon wrote also an Essay on the Wis- 



104 PHILOSOPHY AND PROSE LITERATURE. [Chap. V, 

dom of the Ancients, in which he endeavored to explain the political 
and moral truths concealed in the mythology of the classical ages ; 
and in this work he exhibits an ingenuity which Macaulay justly de- 
scribes as almost morbid ; an unfinished romance, The New Atlantis^ 
which was intended to embody the fulfilment of his own dreams of a 
philosophical millennium ; a History of Henry VII. , and a vast num- 
ber of state-papers, judicial decisions, and other professional writings. 
All these are marked by the same vigorous, weighty, and somewhat 
ornamented style which is to be found in the Ifistauratio, and are 
among the finest specimens of the English language at its period of 
highest majesty and perfection. 

§ 14. In every nation there may be found a small number of writers 
who, in their life, in the objects of their studies, and in the form and 
manner of their productions, bear a peculiar stamp of eccentricity. No 
country has been more prolific in such exceptional individualities than 
England, and no age than the sixteenth century. There cannot be 
a more striking example of this small but curious class than old Rob- 
ert Burton (1576-1640), whose life and writings are equally odd. 
His personal history was that of a retired and laborious scholar, and 
his principal work, the Anatomy of Melancholy, is a strange combina- 
tion of the most extensive and out-of-the-way reading with just obser- 
vation and a peculiar kind of grave saturnine humor. The object of 
the writer was to give a complete monography of Melancholy, and to 
point out its causes, its symptoms, its treatment, and its cure : but the 
descriptions given of the various phases of the disease are written in 
so curious and pedantic a style, accompanied with such an infinity of 
quaint observation, and illustrated by such a mass of quotations from a 
crowd of authors, principally the medical writers of the fourteenth and 
fifteenth centuries, of whom not one reader in a thousand in the pres- 
ent day has ever heard, that the Anatomy possesses a charm which no 
one can resist who has once fallen under its fascination. The enormous 
amount of curious quotation Avith which Burton has incrusted every 
paragraph and almost every line of his work has rendered him the 
favorite study of those who wish to appear learned at a small expense ; 
and his pages have served as a quarry from which a multitude of authors 
have borrowed, and often without acknowledgment, much of their 
materials, as the great Roman feudal families plundered the Coliseum 
to construct their frowning fortress-palaces. The greater part of Bur- 
ton's laborious life was passed in the Universitj^ of Oxford, where he 
died, not without suspicion of having hastened his own end, in order 
that it might exactly correspond with the astrological predictions which 
he is said, being a firm believer in that science, to have drawn from his 
own horoscope. He is related to have been himself a victim to that 
melancholy which he has so minutely described, and his tomb bears 
the astrological scheme of his own nativity, and an inscription emi- 
nently characteristic of the man : " Hie jacet Democritus, junior, cui 
vitam dedit et mortem Melancholia." 

Our notice of the prose writers of this remarkable period would be 



A. D. 15SS-1679.] HERBERT. HOBBES. 105 

incomplete without some mention of Lord Herbert of Cherbury 
(1581-1648), who was remarkable as a theologian and also as an his- 
torian. He was a man of great learning and rare dignity of personal 
character, and was employed in an embassy to Paris in 1616. There 
he first published his principal work, the treatise De Vcritate, an elab- 
orate pleading in favor of deism, of which Herbert was one of the ear- 
liest partisans in England. He also left a History of Henry VIII., not 
published until after his death, and which is certainly a valuable mon- 
ument of grave and vigorous prose, though the historical merit of the 
work is diminished by the author's strong partiality in favor of the 
character of the king. Though maintaining the doctrines of a free- 
thinker, Herbert gives indications of an intensely enthusiastic religious 
mysticism, and there is proof of his having imagined himself on more 
than one occasion the object of miraculous communications by which 
the Deitj^ confirmed the doctrines maintained in his books. 

§ 15. But in force of demonstration, and clearness and precision of 
language, none of the English metaphysicians have surpassed Thomas 
HoBBES (1588-1679), who, however, more properly belongs to a later 
period. Hobbes was a man of extraordinary mental activity, equally 
remarkable, during the whole of a long literary career, for the power 
as for the variety of his philosophical speculations. The theories of 
Hobbes exerted an incalculable influence on the opinions, not only of 
English, but also of Continental thinkers, for nearly a century, and 
though that influence has since been much weakened by the errors and 
sophistries mingled in many of this great writer's works, in some 
important and arduous branches of abstract speculation, as for exam- 
ple in the great question respecting Free Will and Necessity, it is 
doubtful whether anj" later investigations have thrown any new light 
upon the principles established by him. He was born at Malmesbury 
in Wiltshire in 1588, was educated at Magdalen Hall, Oxford, and sub- 
sequently travelled abroad as private tutor to the Earl of Devonshire. 
On his return he became intimate with the most distinguished men of 
his day, through the influence of his patron the Earl of Devonshire. 
His first literary work, the translation of Thucydides, was published in 
the third year of the reign of Charles I., in 1628. He subsequently 
passed several years in Paris and Italy, and he was in constant com- 
munication with the most illustrious minds among his contempo- 
raries, as with Descartes for example, with Galileo, and with Harvey. 
Though of extreme boldness in speculation, Hobbes was an advocate 
for high monarchical or rather despotic principles in government: his 
theory being that human nature was essentially ferocious and corrupt, 
he concluded that the iron restraint of arbitrary power could alone 
suffice to bridle its passions. This theory necessarily flowed from the 
fundamental proposition of Hobbes's moral system; viz. that the 
firimmn mobile of all human actions is selfish interest. Attributing 
all our actions to intellectual calculation, and thus either entirely 
ignoring or not allowing sufficient influence to the moral elements 
and the affections, which play at least an equal part in the drania of 



106 PHILOSOPHY AND PROSE LITERATURE. [Chap. V. 

life, Hobbes fell into a narrow and one-sided view of our motives which 
makes his theory only half true. He was a man whose reading, though 
not extensive, was singularly profound : and in the various branches 
of science and literature which he cultivated we see that clearness of 
view and vigor of comprehension which is found in men of few books. 
The most celebrated work of this great thinker was the Leviathaii (pub- 
lished in 1651), an argument in favor of monarchical government: the 
reasonings, however, will apply with equal force to the justification of 
despotism. But though the Leviathan is the best known of his works, 
the Treatise on Human Nature^ and the Letter on Liberty and Neces- 
sity^ are incontestably those in which the closeness of his logic and the 
purity and clearness of his style are most visible, and the correctness 
of his deductions least mingled with error, ^wo purely political trea- 
tises, the Elevienta Philosophica de Cive, and De Corpore Politico^* 
are remarkable for the cogency of the arguments, though many of the 
results at which the author struggles to arrive are npw no longer con- 
sidered deducible from the premises. In the latter portion of his life, 
Hobbes entered with great ardor upon the study of pure mathematics, 
and engaged in very vehement controversies with Wallis and others 
respecting the quadrature of the circle and other questions in which 
novices in those sciences are apt to be led away by the enthusiasm of 
imaginary discoveries. Hobbes has often been erroneously confounded 
with the enemies of religion. This has arisen from a inisconception 
of the nature of his doctrines, which, in apparently lowering the moral 
faculties of man, have seemed to exhibit a tendency to materialism, 
though in reality nothing can be more opposed to the character of 
Hobbes's philosophical views ; for the selfish theory of human actions, 
when divested of those limitations which confine the motive of self to 
those low and short-sighted views of interest with which it is generally 
associated, no more necessitates a materialistic line of argument than 
any other system for clearing up the mysteries of our moral nature.f 

* These two treatises were published before the Leviathan, and were incor- 
porated in the latter work. 

t It may also be mentioned that Hobbes wrote, in 1672, at the age of 84, 
n curious Latin poem on his own life ; and he also published in- 1675, at the a^e 
of 87, a translation in verse of the Iliad and Odyssey. His Behemoth, or a His- 
tony of the Civil Wars from 1640 to 1660, appeared in 1679, a few months after 
Ivis death. 



Chap. V.] 



NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIOXS. 



107 



NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 



MIXOE PROSE WMTERS IN TUE REIGNS 
OF ELIZABETH AND JAMES I. 

"Webster Pt:tte>"HAM, publislied in 1586 the 
Art of English Poesie ; a writer whom Mr. Hallam 
considers the first who wrote a well measured 
prose. 

RICIIAKD Gkafton, a printer in tlie reigns of 
Henry VIII. and the three following sovereigns, is 
one of the early chroniclers. He wrote in prison, 
into which he was thrown for printing the procla- 
niation of the succession of Lady Jane Grey to tiie 
throne, An Ahridg.nent of the Chronicles of Eng- 
land, published in J562. 

William Cecil, Loep Bitkleigii (d. 1508), 
the celebrated statesman in the reign of Queen 
E!i?aheth, wrote Precepts, or. Directions for the 
welt Ordering ami Carriage of a Jilan's Life, ad- 
dressed to his son liohert Cecil. 

John Lyly, the author of the prose romance of 
Euphues, and GiiEENE and NASri, the authors of 
several pamphlets in prose, are mentioned under the 
dramatists (pp. 124, 125). 

Geoi;ge Buciiajsan (150G-1582), celebrated as an 
elegant Latin writer, was bom at Killearn, in the 
county of Stirling, and was aducated at the Univer- 
sities of St. Andrews and Paris. He was appointed 
by the Earl of Murray tutor to the young King 
James VI. His chief work is a History of Scot- 
land, which was published in 1582, under the title 
of Renim Scoticarum Ilistoria. His Latin version 
of the Psalms has been already mentioned (p. 87). 
He wrote in the Scottish dialect a work called 
Chanixleon, to satirize Secretary Maitland of Leth- 
iugton. 

George Sandys (1577-1643), known as a travel- 
ler and as a poet, was the youngest son of the 
Archbishop of York. His Travels in the East w^erc 
very popular, and were repeatedly republished in 
tlie seventeenth century. His chief poetical pro- 
duction was a translation of Ovid's Metamorphoses. 

William Litiigow (d. 1640), a native of Scot- 
land, also celebrated as a traveller. He travelled 
nineteen years on foot in Europe, Asia, and ^yrica. 
The first edition of his Travels was published in 
1614. 

Sir John Hayward (d. 1627), an historian, pub- 
lished in 1599 The First Part of the Life and Reign 
of Henry 1 V., dedicated to the Earl of Essex ; a 
work which gave such oflence to the queen that the 
author was thrown into prison. Hayward was 
subsequently patronized and knighted by James I. 
In 1613 he published The Lives of the three Norman 
Kings of England, William I., iVilliam II., and 
Henry L, dedicated to Charles, Prince of Wales. 
He likewise wrote The Life and Reign of King 
Edward VL, with the Beginning of the Reign of 
Queen Elizabeth, which was published in IGljO, after 
bis death. 

ilKjiiAKD Knolles (d. 1610), master of the free- 



school at Sandwich in Kent, p\ibli.shcd in 1610 a 
History of the Turks. Johnson, in a paper in the 
Rambler, gives KnoUes the superiority over all 
English historians. " He has displayed all the ex- 
cellencies that narrative can aJniit. His sty'ic, 
thougli somewhat obscured by time and vitiated 
by falsa wit, is pure, nervous, elevated, and clear. 
Nothing could have sunk this author into obscurity 
but the remoteness and barbarity of the people lie 
relates." Mr. Ilallam thinks that Johnson has not 
too highly extolled Knolles's style and power of 
narration. 

Samuel Daniel, the poet of whom we have al- 
ready spoken (p. 80), published in 1618 a History of 
England, from the Conquest to the Reign of Ed- 
ward in. JNIr. Hallam remarks that "this work is 
deserving of some attention on account of its lan- 
guage. It is written with a freedom from all stiif- 
ncss, and a purit3' of style, wliich hardly any i>ther 
work of so early a date exhibits. These qualities are 
indeed so remarkable that it would require a good 
deal of critical observation to distinguish it even 
from writings of the reign of Anne ; and where it 
differs from them (I speak only of the secondary 
class of works, which have not much individuality 
of manner), it is by a more select idiom, and by an 
absence of the Gallicism or vulgarity which is 
often found in that age. It is true that the merits 
of Daniel are chiefly negative; he is never pedantic, 
or antithetical, or low, as his contemporaries were 
apt to be ; but his periods are ill constructed ; he has 
little vigor or elegance; and it is only by observing 
how much pains he must have taken to reject 
phi'ases which were growing obsolete that we give 
him credit for having done more than follow the 
common stream of easy writing. A slight tinge 
of archaism, and a certain majesty of expression, 
relatively to colloquial usage, were thought by 
Bacon and Raleigh congenial to an elevated style; 
but Daniel, a gentleman of the king's household, 
■wrote as the court spoke, and his facility would be 
pleasing if his sentences had a less negligent struc- 
ture. As an historian he has recourse only to com- 
mon authorities; but his narration is fluent aiid 
perspicuous, with a regular vein of good sense, more 
the characteristic of his mind, both in verse and 
prose, than very commanding vigor." 

WiLiJAM Camden (1551-1623), the antiquary 
and historian, was head master of WestminsttT 
School, and endowed at Oxford the chair of Iiistory, 
which bears his name. His most celebrated work 
is in Latin, entitled Britannia, first publislied in 
1586, giving a topographical description of Great 
Britain from the earliest times. He also wrote in 
Latin an account of the reign of Queen Elizabeth. 

Sir Henry Spelman (1562-1641), also an emi- 
nent antiquary, published in Latin various works 
upon legal and ecclesiastical antiquities, of whicli 
one of the principal is a History of the English 
Councils. 



108 THE DAV/N OF THE DRAMA. [Chap. VI. 

CHAPTER VI. 

THE DAWN OF THE DRAMA. 

§ 1. Origin of the Drama. Earliest religious spectacles, called Mysteries or 
Miracles. § 2. Plays, called Moralities : Bishop Bale. § 3. Interludes : John 
Heywood. § 4. Pageants. Latin Plays. § 5. Chronicle Plays. Bale's 
King John. First English tragedies. The tragedy of Gorboduc. Other early 
tragedies. § 6. First English comedies. lialph Royster Doyster. Gammer 
Gurton's Needle. § 7. Actors. Theatres. Scenery and properties of the stage. 
§8. Dramatic authors usually actors. §9. Early English playwrights. Lyly. 
Peele. Kyd. Nash. Gkeene. Lodge. § 10. Christopher Maelowe. 
^ IL Anonymous plays. 

1. As the Drama is one of the most splendid and perhaps the most 
intensely national department of our literature, so its orig n and devel- 
opment were peculiar, and totally different from anything to be 
found in the history of other European countries. It is only Spain and 
England among all the modern civilized nations, that possess a theatri- 
cal literature independent in its origin, characteristic in its form, and 
reflecting faithfully the features, moral, social, and intellectual, of the 
people among which it arose : and the nationality of Spain being 
strongly distinguished from that of England, it is natural that the 
Spanish drarria should possess a character which, though, like that of 
Britain, strongly romantic, should be very dissimilar in its type. It is 
possible to trace the first dim dawning of our national stage to a very 
remote period, to a period indeed not very far removed from the era 
of the Norman Conquest : for the custom of representing, in a rude 
dramatic form, legends of the lives of the Saints and striking episodes 
of Bible History seems to have been introduced from France, and to 
have been employed by the clergy as a means of communicating reli- 
gious instruction to the rude population of the twelfth century. There 
exists the record of one of these religious spectacles, which received the 
name of Mysteries or Miracles, from the sacred nature of their subject 
and personages, having been represented in the Convent of Dunstable 
in IT 19. It was called the Play of St. CatheritiCy and in all probability 
consisted of a rude dramatized picture of the miracles and martyrdom 
of that saint, performed on the festival which commemorated her death. 
In an age when the great mass of the laity, from the highest to the low- 
est, were in a state of extreme ignorance, and when the little learnmg 
that then existed was exclusively in the hands of ecclesiastics, it was 
quite natural that the latter, which was then the governing class, should 
employ so obvious an expedient for communicating some elementary 
religious instruction to the people, and by gratifying the curiosity of 
their rude hearers, extend and strengthen the influence of the Churcht 
It is known that this play of St. Catherine was performed in French, 



I 



A. D. 11190 MYSTERIES OR MIRACLES. 109 

which is a sufficient proof that the custom of these representations was 
imported from abroad ; but the great and rapid extension of these per- 
formances soon showed how well this mode of religious amusement 
accorded with the tastes and requirements of the times. Mysteries and 
Miracle-plajs abound in the early literature of all the Catholic countries 
of Europe; Spain, Germany, France, Italy possess examples so abun- 
dant that a considerable library might be formed of these barbarous 
pieces ; and the habit of seeing them represented in public has certainly 
left very perceptible traces in medijEval literature and art. For example, 
the title, the subject, and the arrangement of Dante's immortal poem are 
closely connected with dramatic representations of Hell, Purgatory, and 
Paradise, which formed a common feature among the festivities of 
Florence. The Divine Comedy, the very name of which shows its re- 
lation to some theatrical performance, is nothing but a Miracle in a 
narrative form. These plays were composed and acted by monks, the 
cathedral was transformed for the nonce into a theatre, the stage was 
a species of graduated platform in three divisions rising one over the 
other, and placed near or over the altar, and the costumes were fur- 
nished by the splendid contents of the vestry of the church. It will 
appear natural enough, that on any of the high religious festivals, on 
the anniversary of any important religious personage or event, that 
personage or event should be represented in a visible form, with such 
details as either Scripture, legend, or the imagination of the author 
could supply. The childish and straightforward art of these old 
monkish dramatists felt no repugnance in following with strict literal 
accuracy every circumstance of the original narrative which they 
dramatized ; and the simple faith of their audience saw no impropriety 
in the introduction of the most supernatural beings, the persons of the 
Trinity, angels, devils, saints, and martyrs. The three platforms into 
which the stage was divided represented Heaven, Earth, and Hell ; and 
the dramatis fersonce made their appearance on that part of the stage 
which corresponded with their nature. It was absolutely necessary that 
some comic element should be introduced to enliven the graver scenes, 
particularly as some of these representations were of inordinate length, 
there being one, for example, on the subject of the Creation and the 
Fall of Man, which occupied six days in the performance. Besides, the 
rude audience would have absolutely required some farcical or amusing 
episode. This comic element was easily found by representing the 
wicked personages, whether human or spiritual, of the drama as placed 
in ludicrous situations, or surrounded by ludicrous accompaniments: 
thus the Devil generally played the part of the clown or jester, and was 
exhibited in a light half terrific and half farcical. Nor were they con- 
tented with such drDlleries as could be extracted from the grotesque 
gambols and often baffled machinations of Satan and his imps, or with 
tlie mixture of merriment and horror inspired by horns, and tails, and 
hairy howling mouths : the authors of these pieces introduced human 
buftbons ; and the modern puppet-play of Punch, with his struggles 
with the Devil, is unquestionably a direct tradition handed down from 
lo 



110 THE DAWN OF THE DRAMA. [Chap. VI. 

these ancient miracles in which the Evil One was alternately the con- 
queror and the victim of the Buffoon, Jester, or Vice, as he was called. 

Some idea may be formed of these ancient religious dramas from the 
titles of some of them which have been preserved ; for the general reader 
is scarce likely to consult such of them as have been printed, though 
curious monuments of the faith and 'art of long-vanished ages. The 
Creation of the World, the Fall of Matt, the story of Cain arid Abel, 
the Crucifixio7i of Our Lord, the Massacre of the Innocents, the Deluge, 
besides an infinite multitude of subjects taken from the lives and miracles 
of the saints ; such were the materials of these simple dramas. They 
are generally written in mixed prose and verse, and though abounding 
in anachronisms and absurdities both of character and dialogue, they 
sometimes contain passages of simple and natural pathos, and some- 
times scenes which must have affected the spectators with intense awe 
and reverence. In an English mystery on the subject of the Deluge, a 
comic scene is produced by the refusal of Noah's wife to enter the Ark, 
and by the beating which justly terminates her resistance and scolding. 
But, on the other hand, a mystery on the subject of the Sacrifice of 
Isaac contains a dialogue of much pathos and beauty between Abraham 
and his son ; and the whole action of the Mystery of the Holy Sacra- 
ment was capable of producing a strong impression in an age of child- 
like, ardent faith. These representations were got uj) with all the mag- 
nificence attainable, and every expedient was employed to heighten the 
illusion of the scene. Thus there is a tradition of a condemned crimi- 
nal having been really crucified on the stage, in a representation of the 
Passion of Our Lord, in the character of the Impenitent Thief. Very 
evident traces of the vmiversality of these religious dramas may be 
found in the early works of sculpture and painting throughout Catholic 
Europe. Thus the practice of representing the Deitj' in the crtstume 
and ornaments of a Pope or a Bishop, which appears to us an absurdity 
or an irreverence, arose from such a personage being generally repre- 
sented, on the rude stage of the miracle-play, in a dress which was then 
associated with ideas of the highest reverence : and the innumerable 
anecdotes and apologues representing evil spirits as bafiled and defeated 
by a very moderate amount of cunning and dexterity may easil}'^ have 
been generated by that peculiarity of Mediaeval Christianity which pic- 
tures the wicked spirits, not as terrible and awful beings, but as mischiev- 
ous goblins whose power was annihilated at the foundation of our faith. 

§ 2. To trace the gradual changes which establish the affiliation 
from the early Mysteries of the twelfth century to the regular drama of 
modern times, is nothing else but to point out the steps by which the 
dramatic art, from an exclusively religious character acquired more and 
more of a lay or worldly spirit in its subjects and its personages. The 
Mysteries, once the only form of dramatic representation, continued to 
be popular from the eleventh to the end of the fourteenth century; nay, 
in some pastoral and rem.ote corners of Europe, where the primitive 
faith glows in all its ancient ardor, and where the manners of the 
people have been little modified by contact with foreign civilization, 



A. D. 1495.] MORALITIES. Ill 

something very similar to the Mysteries may be still seen even in the 
present day. In the retired valleys of Catholic Switzerland, in the 
Tyrol, and in some little-visited districts of Germanj^, the peasants still 
annually perform dramatic spectacles representing episodes in the life 
of Christ. The first stage in the process oi latcizt?2g the drama was the 
substitution for the Miracle-play of another kind of representation, 
entitled a Morality. This species of entertainment seems to have been 
popular from about the beginning of the fifteenth century, and gradually 
supplanted the exclusively religious Mystery. It is quite evident that 
the composition as well as the representation of these pieces was far 
less exclusively in the hands of ecclesiastics, who thus began to lose 
that influence over the popular mind which they derived from their 
monopoly of knowledge. Perhaps, however, it would be a more legiti- 
mate explanation of this change to say, that the spread of civilization 
among the laitj^, and the hostility which was gradually but rapidly un- 
dermining the foundations of Catholicism in England, had contributed 
to put an end to that monopoly; for many of our early Moralities, 
though the production of Churchmen, as in the case of Bishop Bale, 
were the production of Churchmen strongly tainted with the unortho- 
dox opinions of the early reformers. The subjects of these dramas, 
instead of being purely religious, were moral, as their name implies; 
and the ethical lessons were conveyed by an action and dramatis j^cr- 
soncs of an abstract or allegorical kind. Thus, instead of the Deity 
and his angels, the Saints, the Patriarchs, and the characters of the 
Old and New Testament, the persons who figure in the Moralities are 
Everj^-Man — a general type or expression of humanity — Lusty Juven- 
tus — who represents the follies and weaknesses of j-outh — Good 
Counsel, Repentance, Gluttony, Pride, Avarice, and the like. The 
action was in general exceedingly simple, and the tone grave and doc- 
trinal, though of course the same necessity existed as before for the 
introduction of comic scenes. The Devil was far too popular and useful 
a personage to be suppressed; so his battles and scoldings with the 
Vice, or Clown, were still retained to furnish forth " a fit of mirth." 
Our readers may form some idea of the general character of these pieces 
by the analysis of one, entitled The Cradle of Security, the outline of 
which has been preserved in the narrative of an old man who had 
formed one of the audience in his early childhood. It was intended as 
a lesson to careless and sensual sovereigns. The principal personage is 
a King, who, neglecting his high duties and plunged in voluptuous pleas- 
ures, is put to sleep in a cradle, to which he is bound by golden chains 
held by four beautiful ladies, who sing as they rock the cradle. Sud- 
denly tlie courtiers are all dispersed by a terrible knock at the door, 
and the king, awaking, finds himself in the custody of two stern and 
tremendous figures, sent from God to punish his voluptuousness and vice. 
In a similar way the action of the Morality Lusty Juve7itus contains a 
vivid and even humorous picture of the extravagance and debauchery of a 
young heir, surrounded by companions, the Virtues and the Vices, some 
of whom endeavor in vain to restrain his passions, while others flatter 



112 THE DAWN OF THE DRA3IA. [Chap. VI. 

his depraved inclinations. This piece also ends with a demonstration 
of the inevitable misery and punishment which follow a departure from 
the path of virtue and religion. It is impossible to draw any strong 
line of demarcation, either chronological or critical, between the Mys- 
tery and Morality. The one species imperceptibly melts into the other; 
though the general points of distinction are clear and obvious enough. 
The Morality also had a strong tendency to partake of the character of 
the court masque, in which the Elements, the Virtues, the Vices, or tile 
various reigns of nature, were introduced cither to convey some physical 
or philosophical instruction in the guise of allegory, or to compliment 
a king or great personage on a festival occasion. Of this class is Skel- 
ton's masque, to which I have alluded in a former chapter, and to which 
he gave the title of Magjiificence. A very industrious writer of these 
Moralities was Bishop Bale (1495-1563), who will also be mentione^. 
presently (p. 114) as one of the founders of our national drama. ..- 

§ 3. Springing from the Moralities, and bearing some general resem- 
blance to them, though exhibiting a still nearer approach to the regu- 
lar drama, are the Interludes^ a class of compositions in dialogue much 
shorter in extent and more merry and farcical in subject, which were 
exceedingly fashionable about the time when the great controversy was 
raging between the Catholic church and the Reformed religion in Eng- 
land. A prolific author of these grotesque and merry pieces was John 
Heywood, a man of learning and accomplishment, but who seems to 
have performed the duties of a sort of jester at the court of Henry VIII. 
Heywood was an ardent Catholic ; and the stage at that time was used 
by both religious parties to throw odium and ridicule upon the doc- 
trines of their opponents ; the Catholics delighting to bring forward 
Luther, Catherine de Bora, and the principal figures among the reform- 
ers, in a light at once detestable and ridiculous, and the Protestants 
returning the compliment by showing up the corruptions and vices of 
the Pope and the hierarchy. The Interludes, being short, were, it is sup- 
posed, performed either in the eiit/actcs of the longer and more solemn 
Moralities, or represented on temporary stages between the inter^ls A 
of the interminable banquets and festivities of those days. V^ J^ 

§ 4. In the preceding rapid sketch of the dramatic amusements of 
our ancestors, I have endeavored to give a general idea of these enter- 
tainments in their complete and normal form ; that is, when the action 
selected for the subject of the piece was illustrated with dialogue, and 
the exhibitor addressed himself to the ears as well as to the eyes of his 
audience. It must not be forgotten that both the subjects of the Mys- 
teries and those of the Moralities were sometimes exhibited in dumb 
show. A scene of Holy Writ or some event in the life of a saint was 
represented in a kind of tableau viva?tt by disguised and costumed per- 
sonages, and this representation was often placed on a sort of wheeled 
platform and exhibited continually during those long processions which 
foi-med the principal feature of the festivities of ancient times. These 
tableaux vivants were also introduced into the great halls during the 
elaborate banquets which were the triumphs of ancient magnificence : 



A.D. I50O.] LATIN- PLAYS. 113 

and thus this species of entertainment is inseparably connected with 
those pageants so often emploj'ed to gratify the vanity of citizens, or 
to compliment an illustrious visitor. These pageants, whether simply 
consisting of the exhibition, on some lofty platform, in the porch or 
churchyard of a cathedral, in the Town Hall or over the city gate, of 
a number of figures suitably dressed, or accompanying their action 
with poetical declamation and music, necessarily partook in all the 
change.fi of taste which characterized the age : the Prophets and Saints 
who welcomed the roy# stranger in the thirteenth century with bar- 
barous Latin hymns, were gradually supplanted by the Virtues and 
allegorical qualities ; and these in their turn, when the Renaissance 
had disseminated a universal passion for classical imagery, made way 
for the Cupids, the Muses, and other classical personages whose influ- 
ence has continued almost to the literature of our own time. Such 
spectacles as I have just been alluding to, which were so common that 
the chronicles of every European nation are filled with records of them, 
were of course frequently exhibited at the Universities : but in the 
hands of these bodies the shows naturally acquired a more learned 
character than they had elsewhere. It was almost universal in those 
times that the students should employ Latin on all official occasions : 
this was necessary, partly from the multitude of nations composing the 
body of the students, and who required some common language which 
they could all understand. Lat^n, therefore, was by a thousand difter- 
ent laws and regulations obligatory ; and this occurred not only in the 
Universities, but also in many conventual and monastic societies. It 
was therefore natural that the public amusements of the University 
should partake of the same character. A large number of pieces, gen- 
erally written upon the models of Terence and Seneca, were produced 
and represented at this time. In the great outbreak of revolt against 
the authority of scholasticism which preceded the Reformation, the 
return to classical models in dramatic composition was general, and 
Reuchlin boasted that he was the first to furnish the youth of Germany 
with comedies bearing some similarity to the masterpieces of Terence. 
The times of Elizabeth and James were peculiarly fertile in Latin dramas 
composed at the Universities ; and these sovereigns, the first of whom 
was remarkably learned in an age of general diffusion of classical studies, 
while in the second erudition had degenerated into pedantry, were en- 
tertained b}' the students of Oxford and Cambridge with Latin plays. 

§ 5, We have now traced the progress of the Dramatic art from its 
first rude infancy in England, and have seen how every step of that 
advance removed it farther and farther from a purely religious, and 
brought it closer and closer to a profane character. The last step of 
the progress was the creation of what we now understand under the 
tei-m dramatic, viz. the scenic representation, by means of the action 
and dialogue of human personages, of some event of history or social 
life. As in the first appearance of this, the most perfect form which 
the art could attain, the influence of the great models of ancient litera- 
ture must have been very powerful, dramatic compositions class them- 
lO * 



114 THE DAWN OF THE DRAMA. [Chap. VI. 

selves, by the very nature of the case, into the two great categories of 
Tragedy and Comedy, and even borrow from the classical models details 
of an unessential kind, as for example the use of the Chorus, which, 
originally consisting of a numerous bod^^ of performers, was gradually 
reduced, though its name and functions were retained to a certain 
degree by the old English playwrights, to a single individual, as in sev- 
eral of Shakspeare's dramas. It was about the middle of the sixteenth 
century that a considerable activity of creation was first perceptible in 
this department. John Bale (1495-1563), t^ author of many semi- 
polemical plays, partaking in some measure of the character of the 
Mystery, the Morality, and the Interlude, set the example of £xtracting 
materials for rude historical dramas from the Chronicles of his native 
country. His drama of King JoJdi occupies an intermediate place 
between the Moralities and historical plays. But the most remarkable 
progress in this department of literature is to be found in a considera- 
ble number of pieces, written to be performed by the students of the 
Inns of Court and the Universities, for the amusement of the sov- 
ereign on high festival occasions : for it must be remembered that the 
establishment of regular theatres and the formation of regular theatri- 
cal troops did not take place for a considerable period after these first 
dramatic attempts. The great entertainments of the rich and power- 
ful municipal corporations, of which the Lord Mayor's annual Show in 
London, and similar festivities in many other towns, still exist as curi- 
ous relics, prove that the same circumstances -which had generated the 
annual performance of the Chester and Coventry plays, and maintained 
those exhibitions uninterruptedly during a very long succession of 
years, still continued to exist. Contrary to w^hat might have been 
expected, the first tragedies produced in the English language were 
remarkable for the gravity and elevation of their language, the dignity 
of their sentiments, and the dryness and morality of their style. They 
are, it is true, extremely crowded with bloody and dolorous events, 
rebellions, treasons, murders, and regicides : but there is very little 
attempt to delineate character, and certainly not the slightest trace of 
that admixture of comic action and dialogue which is so characteristic 
of the later theatre of England, in which the scene struggled to imitate 
the irregularity and the vastness of human life. A good example of 
these early plays is the Tragedy of Gorboduc^ or Ferrex afid Porrex, 
written by Thomas Sackville, Lord Buckhurst (the principal writer in 
the " Mirrour for Magistrates "), and Thomas Norton, and acted in 1562 
for the entertainment of Queen Elizabeth, by the gentlemen of the 
Inner Temple. The subject of this play is borrowed from the old half- 
mythological Chronicles of Britain, and the principal event is similar 
to the story of Eteocles and Polynices, a legend which has furnished 
the materials not only to the genius of ^schjdus, but to that of Racine 
and Schiller. But though the subject of this piece is derived from the 
national records, whether authentic or mythical, the treat7nent exhibits 
strong marks of classic imitation, though rather after the manner of Sen- 
eca than of -^schylus or Sophocles. Seneca enjoyed a most surprising 



A. D. 1566.] EARLY TRAGEDIES. 115 

reputation at the revival of Letters. The dialogue oi Girhoduc is in 
blank verse,* which is regular and carefully constructed ; but it is 
totally destitute of variety of pause, and consequently is a most insuffi- 
cient vehicle for dramatic dialogue. The sentence almost invariably 
terminates with the line, and the effect of the whole is insupportably 
formal and heavy; for no weight and depth of moral and political 
ai)othegm, with which the work abounds, can compensate for the 
total want of life, of sentiment, and passion. Another work of a simi- 
lar character is Damon and Pythias^ acted before the Queen at Christ 
Chuixh, Oxford, in 1566. This play, which is in rhj-me, is a mixture 
of tragedy and comedy. Its author was Richard Edwards, the com- 
piler of the miscellany called The Paradise of Dainty Devices (see p. 
'^''^^. He also wrote Palamon and Arcite, the beautiful story so inim- 
itably treated by Chaucer in The Knighfs Tale, and afterwards in Beau- 
mont and Fletcher's romantic play The Tzvo Noble Kinsmen. In 1578 
was acted Promos and Cassandra, by George Whetstone, chiefly 
curious as having furnished the subject of Shakspeare's Measure for 
Measure. All these plays are marked by a general similarity of style 
and treatment, and belong to about the same period. 

§ 6. In the department of Comedy the first English works which 
made their appearance very little anterior to the above pieces, offer a 
most striking contrast in their tone and treatment. It would almost 
seem as if the national genius, destined to stand unrivalled in the pecu- 
liar vein of humor, was tcf prove that while in tragic and sublime delin- 
eations it might encounter, not indeed superiors, but rivals, — in the 
grotesque, the odd, the laughable, it was to stand alone. The earliest 
comedj^ in the language was Ralph Royster Doyster, acted in 155 1, and 
written by Nicholas Udall, who for a long time executed the duties 
of Master of Eton College. This was followed, about fourteen years 
later, by Gammer Gurton's Needle, composed by John Still, after- 
wards Bishop of Bath and Wells, and who had previously been Master 
of St. John's and Trinity Colleges in Cambridge. This piece was prob- 
ably acted by the students of the society over which the author pre- 
sided, and was long considered to have been the earliest regular comedy 
in the English language : but it was afterwards established that the 
work of Udall preceded it by a short interval. Both these works are 
highly curious and interesting, not only as being the oldest specimens 
of the class of literature to which they belong, but in some measure 
from their intrinsic merit. There can be no question that the former 
comedy is far superior to the second : it is altogether of a higher order, 
both in conception and execution. The action takes place in London, 
and the principal characters are a rich and pretty widow, her lover, and 
several of her suitors, the chief of whom is the foolish personage who 
gives the title to the play. This ridiculous pretender to gayety and 

* Blank verse was first introduced by Lord Surrey in his translation of the 
/Eneid (see p. 66). It was next used by Grimoald (see p. 70), who, according 
ro Warton, gave it " new strength, elegance, and modulation." Sackville was 
Ihe third writer who employed it. 



V 



116 TEE DAWN OF THE DRA3IA. [Chap. VI. 

love, a young heir just put into possession of his fortune, is surrounded 
by a number of intriguers and flatterers who pretend to be his friends, 
and who lead their dupe /into all sorts of absurd and humiliating 
scrapes ; and the piece ends with the return of the favored lover from 
a voyage which he had undertaken in a momentary pique. The man- 
ners represented are those of the middle class of the period, and the 
picture given of London citizen life in the middle of the sixteenth cen- 
tury is curious, animated, and natural. The language is lively, and 
the dialogue is carried on in a sort of loose doggerel rhj-me, very well 
adapted to represent comic conversation. In general the intrigue of 
this drama is deserving of approbation ; the plot is well imagined, and 
the reader's curiosity well kept alive. Gammer Gurton's Needle is a 
composition of a much lower and more farcical order. The scene is 
laid in the humblest rustic life, and all the dramatis personce belong to 
the uneducated class. The principal action of the comedy is the sud- 
den loss of a needle with which Gammer {Commtre}) Gurton has been 
mending the inexpressibles of her man Hodge, a loss comparatively 
serious, when needles were rare and costly. The whole intrigue con- 
sists in the search instituted after this unfortunate little implement, 
which is at last discovered by Hodge himself, on suddenly sitting down, 
sticking in the garment w^hich Gammer Gurton had been repairing. Ifl. 
A comparison between these early comedies, and Gamjner Gurton in 
particular, and that curious and interesting piece Maistre Pierre Patke- 
liii, which is regarded as the first specimen of the French comic stage, 
would not be uninstructive. In both the transition from the sottie or 
farce to regular comedy is plainly perceptible ; and it must be con- 
fessed that in the humorous delineation of character, as well as in 
probability and variety of incident, the French piece has decidedly the 
advantage. The form of the dialogue, being in both cases a sort of 
easy doggerel verse, little removed from the real language of the classes 
A. represented, has great similarity; though the French comedy is, as far 
as its diction is concerned, far more archaic and difficult to a modern 
French reader than the English of Gatnmer Gurton to an English one. 
This indeed may be generally remarked, that our language has under- 
gone less radical changes in the space of time which has elapsed from 
the first appearance of literary productions among us than any of the 
other cultivated dialects of Europe. 

§ 7. It will be inferred from what has been said respecting the cus- 
tom of acting plan's at Court, in the mansions of great lords, in the 
Universities, and in the Inns of Law, that regular public theatres were 
not yet in existence. The actors were to a certain degree amateurs, 
and were frequently literally the domestics of the sovereign and the 
nobles, wearing their badges and liveries, and protected by their pa- 
tronage. The line of demarcation between musical performers, singers, 
jugglers, tumblers, and actors, was for a long period very faintly traced. 
The Court plays were frequently represented by the children of the 
royal chapel, and placed, as the dramatic profession in general was for 
a long time, under the peculiar supervision of the Office of the Revels, 



A. D. 1580.] EARLY THEATRES. 117 

which was obliged also to exercise the duties of a dramatic censor. 
These bodies of actors, singers, tumblers, &;c., were frequently in the 
habit of wandering about the country, performing wherever they could 
find an audience, sometimes in the mansions of rural grandees, some- 
times in the town halls of provincial municipalities, sometimes in the 
court-yards of inns. Protected by the letters-patent and the livery of 
their master against the severe laws which qualified strollers as vaga- 
bonds, they generally began their proceedings by begging the counte- 
nance and protection of the authorities ; and the accounts of the ancient 
municipal bodies, and the household registers of the great families of 
former times, abound in entries of permiss^pus given to such strolling 
parties of actors, tumblers, and musicians, and of sums granted to 
them in recompense of their exertions. It is curious to remark that 
the amount of such sums seems to have been calculated less in refer- 
ence to the talent displayed in the representation, than to the degree 
of respect which the grantors wished to show to the patron under 
whose protection the troop happened to be. This state of things, how- 
ever, had existed long before ; for in the accounts of the ancient mon- 
asteries we frequently meet with entries of gratuities given, not only 
to travelling preachers from other religious bodies, but even to min- 
strels, jugglers, and other professors of the arts of entertainment. 
Nothing was more easy than to transform the ancient hall of a college, 
palace, or nobleman's mansion into a theatre sufficiently convenient in 
the then primitive state of dramatic representation. The dais or elevat- 
ed platform at the upper extremity was a stage ready made ; it was only 
necessary to hang up a curtain, and to establish a few screens covered 
with tapestry, to produce a scene sufficient for the purpose. When the 
performance took place in an inn, which was very common, the stage 
was established on a platform in the centre of the yard ; the lower classes 
of spectators stood upon the ground in front of it, which custom is 
preserved in the designation pa j'ter re, still given by the French to the 
//V. The latter denomination is a record of the circumstance that in 
England theatrical representations often took place in cockfu'ts. Indeed 
there at one time existed in London a theatre called the Cockpit, from 
the circumstance of its having been originally an arena for that sport. 
The ancient inns, as may be seen by many specimens still in existence, 
were built round an open court-yard, and along each story internally 
ran an open gallery, upon which opened the doors and windows of the 
small chambers occupied by the guests. In order to witness the perform- 
ance the inmates had only to come out into the gallery in front of their 
rooms; and the convenience of this arrangement unquestionably sug- 
gested the principal features of construction when buildings were first 
specifically destined for scenic performances. The galleries of the old 
inns were the prototj'-pes of the circles of boxes in our modern theatres. 
But the taste for dramatic entertainments grew rapidly more general 
and ardent; and in the course of time, in many places, particularly in 
London, not only did special societies of professional actors begin to 
come into existence, but special edifices were constructed for their exhi- 



118 THE DAWN OF THE DRAMA. [Chap. VI. 

bitions. Indeed at one period it is supposed that London and its 
suburbs contained at least twelve different theatres, of various degrees 
of size and convenience. Of these the most celebrated was undoubt- 
edly the Globe, for at that time each plaj^house had its iign, and the 
company which performed in it were also the proprietors of a smaller 
house on the opposite, or London side of the Thames, called the Black- 
friars, situated very nearly on the spot now occupied by the gigantic 
establishment of the " Times " newspaper. The great majority of the 
London theatres were on the southern or Surrey bank of the Thames, 
in order to be out of the jurisdiction of the municipality of the City, 
which, having been from awery early period strongly infected with the 
gloomy doctrines of Puritanism, was violently' opposed to theatrical 
entertainments, and carried on against the plaj^ers and the playhouses 
a constant war, in which their opponents repelled the persecutions of 
authority with all the petulance of wit and caricature. Some of these 
theati'es were cockpits or arenas for bull-baiting and bear-baiting, 
either transformed into regular playhouses, or alternately emploj'cd for 
theatrical and other spectacles : but the Globe, and probablj^ others as 
well, were specifically erected for the purpose of the drama. They 
were all, however, very poor and squalid, as compared with the mag- 
nificent theatres of the present day, and retained in their form and 
arrangement many traces of the ancient model — the inn-yard. The 
building was octagon, and entirely uncovered, excepting over the stage, 
where a thatched roof protected the actors from the weather; and this 
thatched roof was, in 1613, the cause of the total destruction of the 
Globe, in consequence of the w^adding of a chamber, or small cannon, 
lodging in it, fired during the representation of Shakspeare's Henry 
VIII. The boxes or rootns, as they were then styled, were of course 
arranged nearly as in the present day, but the musicians, instead of 
being placed, as now, in the orchestra, or space between the pit and the 
stage, were established in a lofty gallery over the scene. 
''^The most remarkable peculiarity of the ancient English theatres was 
the total absence of painted scenery, which in more recent times has 
been carried to such a height of artistic splendor and illusion. A few 
traverses, as they were called, or screens of cloth or tapestry, gave the 
actors the opportunity of making their exits and entrances; and in 
order to give the audience an idea of the place where the action was 
to be supposed, they emploj^ed the singularly primitive expedient of 
exhibiting a placard, bearing the name of Rome, Athens, London, or 
Florence, as the case might be. So exceedingly rude an expedient as 
this is the more singular as the English drama is remarkable for its 
frequent changes of scene. But though they were forced to content 
themselves with this very inartificial mode of indicating the place of 
the action, the details of the locality could be represented with a much 
^~ more accurate imitation. Thus, if a bedroom were to be supposed, a 
^ bed was pushed for^vard on the stage ; a table covered with bottles and 
tankards, and surrounded with benches, easily suggested a tavern ; a 
gilded chair surmounted by a canopy, and called a state, gave the idea 



A. D. 1580.] EARLY THEATRES. 119 

of a palace, an altar of a church, and the like. At the back of the 
stage was erected a permanent wooden construction, like a scaffold or 
a high wall; and this served for those innumerable incidents where one 
of the di'amatis pcrsoncs \& to overhear the others without being him- 
self seen, and also represented an infinity of objects according to the 
requirements of the piece, such as the wall of a castle or besieged city, 
the outside of a house, as when a dialogue is to take place between one 
person at a window and another on the exterior. Thus in the admira- 
ble garden-scene of Romeo and Juliet, Juliet probably spoke either 
from the sufnmit of this wall or from a window established in it, while 
Romeo stood on the ground outside; in the same way the "men of 
Angiers " spoke to the besieging English from the top of their wall, 
and the storming of Harfleur divided the action between Henry and his 
troops upon the stage and the defenders of the city upon the platform. 
In those accessories to scenic illusion which in the language of the 
English stage are called properties, the old Elizabethan theatres were 
better provided than could have been expected, as may be seen from 
very curious lists of such articles which have accidentally descended to 
us from the ancient greenrooms. In point of costume very little atten- 
tion was paid to chronological or national accuracy. The drajnatis 
fersonce of all ages and countries were in general habited in the dress 
of the period; this was fortunately a graceful, rich, and picturesque 
costume ; and we may judge, from the innumerable philippics of divines 
and moralists against the luxury of the actors, that a very considerable 
degree of splendor in theatrical dress was common. The employment 
of the contemporary costume in plaj^s whose action was supposed to 
take place in Greece, Rome, or Persia, naturally led into gross anach- 
ronisms and absurdities, arming the assassins of Caesar with Spanish 
rapiers, or furnishing Carthaginian senators with watches ; but these 
anachronisms were not likely to strike in a very offensive manner the 
mixed and uncritical spectators of those times. It may indeed be said 
that the meagre material aids to the illusion of the scene which were 
then at the disposal of the dramatic author were in reality of the great- 
est service to the poetical and imaginative department of his art. Not 
being able to depend upon the scene-painter and the machinist, he was 
obliged to trust to his own resources, and to describe in words what 
could not be " oculis subjecta fidelibus." It is to this circumstance that 
we owe those inimitable pictures of natural and artificial objects and 
scenery with which the dramas of this age are so prodigally adorned. 
Though the majority of the characters were clothed in the habit of the 
daj', there were certain conventional attributes always associated with 
particular supernatural personages,, such as angels, devils, ghosts, and 
so on. Thus " a roobe for to goo invisibell " is one of the items in the 
lists of properties to which I have alluded above; and in all probability 
the spectral armor of the Ghost in Hamlet was to be found in the ward- 
robe of the ancient theatres. It appears that the dresses and properties 
belonged to persons who derived their livelihood from hiring these 
articles at a fixed price per night to the perfoi-mers. 



120 THE DAWN OF THE ^DR AM A. [Chap. VI. 

The curtain, that essential appendage to every theatre, is supposed 
to have opened perpendicularly in the middle, instead of being wound 
up and let down as at present; and besides this principal curtain there 
seem to have been others occasionally drawn so as to divide the stage 
into several apartments, and withdrawn to exhibit one of the charac- 
ters as in a tent or closet. 

The cost of admission to the theatres was small, and it was possible 
to secure the use of a private box or rootJi ; for it was then considered 
hardly proper for a lady to be present at the representations of the 
public theatres : it was certainly long before any of ouc sovereigns 
deigned to witness any of those performances. Whenever the monarch 
desired to see a play the actors were summoned to court; and the 
accounts of the chamberlain's office furnish abundant entries of the 
recompenses ordered to be distributed on such occasions among the 
performers. Several of the companies of actors were under the imme- 
diate patronage of the sovereign, of different members of the royal 
family and other great personages of the realm : they were bound to 
" exercise themselves industriously in the art and quality of stage- 
playing," in order to be alwaj-s ready to furnish entertainment to their 
employer, and in return for these services they were protected against 
interlopers and rivals, and above all against the implacable hostility of 
the Puritanical municipality of London. It is perhaps to this cir- 
cumstance that we may attribute the designation o^ Her Majesty'' s Ser- 
vants^ which our modern companies of actors still retain in their play- 
bills ; and the old custom of the actors at the end of the piece falling 
upon their knees and putting up a solemn prayer to Heaven in favor 
of the sovereign is perhaps commemorated in the words Vivat Rcgina, 
with which our modern playbills terminate. The usual hour of repre- 
sentation was anciently very early, in accordance with the habit of 
dining before midday, and the signal was given by the hoisting of a 
flag at the summit of the theatre, which remained floating during the 
whole performance. 

The piece commenced with three flourishes of a trumpet, and at the 
third soundings as it was called, the prologue was declaimed by a 
solemn personage whose regular costume was a long black velvet cloak. 
At the end of the piece, or occasionallj- perhaps between the acts, the 
clown or jester performed what was called a jig, a species of entertain- 
ment in which our ancestors seem to have delighted. This was a kind 
of comic ballad or declamation in doggerel verse, either reatly or pro- 
fessedly an improvisation of the moment, introducing any person or 
event which was exciting the ridicule of the day, and accompanied by 
the performer with tabor and pipe and with grotesque and farcical 
dancing. As the comic actors who performed the clowns and jesters, 
then indispensable personages in all pieces, tragic and comic, were 
allowed to introduce extemporary witticisms at their pleasure, they 
were probably a clever and inventive class ; and the enormous popular- 
ity of several of them, as Tarlton, Kempe, and Armin, seems to prove 
that their drollery must have been intenselj'- amusing. 



A. D. 1580. J EARLY THEATRES. 121 

During the representation of a deep tragedy the whole stage was 
sometimes hung with black; a very singular custom, to which innu- 
merable allusions are made in our older pieces. On ordinary occasions 
the stage Avas strewed with rushes, as indeed were rooms generally in 
those days ; and on these rushes, or on stools brought for the purpose, 
it was customary for the fine gentlemen to sit, amid the full business 
of the stage, displaying their splendid clothes, smoking clay-pipes, 
which was then the height of fashion, exchanging repartees and often 
coarse abuse with the audience before the curtain, and criticising in a 
loud voice the actors and the piece. In England, as in Spain, the com- 
panies of players have been generally, from time immemorial, private 
and independent associations. The property and profits of the theatre 
were divided into a number of shares, as in a joint-stock company ; 
and the number of these shareholders being limited, whatever addi- 
tional assistance the society required was obtamed by engaging the 
services of kircd mc?t, who usually acted the inferior parts. Many 
bonds stipulating the terms of such engagements are in existence; and 
one of the conditions usually was, that the actor so engaged should 
give his services at a fixed price, and should undertake to perform for 
no other company during the time specified in his engagement. These 
men had no right to any share in the profits of the society. That 
these profits were very considerable and constant, and that the career 
of an actor of eminence was often a very lucrative one, is abundantly 
■proved, not only by the frequent allusions to the pride, luxury, and 
magnificence in dress of the successful performers, which are met with 
in the sermons, pamphlets, and satires of the day, but still more 
decisively by the wills left by many of these actors, specifying the large 
fortunes they sometimes accumulated by the practice of their art. Ex- 
amples of this will be found in the cases of Shakspeare, the great 
tragedian Burbage, and the well-known charitable institution due to 
the philanthropy and piety of Edward Alleyn. 

It must never be lost sight of, by any one who wishes to form a clear 
notion of the state of the elder English drama, that the female parts 
were invariably acted by boys or young men. No woman appeared on 
our stage till about the time of the Restoration, and then, singularly 
enough, the earliest part acted by a female was the Desdemona of our 
great dramatist. This innovation was at first considered as something 
shocking and monstrous ; but the evident advantages and propriety of 
the cha"8ge soon silenced all opposition. The novelty itself first origi- 
nated in Italy. We must not, however, imagine that because the parts 
of women were intrusted to male representatives they were necessarily 
ill performed : there are abundant proofs that some of the young actors 
who devoted themselves to this line of their art, attained by practice 
to a high degree both of elegance and pathos. They -were often sing- 
ing-boys of the royal chapel, and as long as their falsetto voice re- 
mained pure, not "cracked i' the ring," as Hamlet says, they were no 
unfit representatives of the graceful and beautiful heroines of Shak- 
speare, Ford, or Fletcher. The testimony of contemporaries proves 
II 



122 TEE DAWN OF THE DRAiMA. [Chap. VI. 

that some of them, as for example the famous Kynaston, so admirably 
seized all the details of the characters they personated, that the illusion 
was complete ; and they were no unworthy rivals of the great artists of 
those days. It is true that this custom of the female parts being acted 
by boys may have in some degree exaggerated that tendency to double 
entendre and indecent equivoque which has unfortunately' been but too 
universally the vice of the stage : but even this objection will lose some 
of its weight when we reflect that the habitual appearance of women 
on the stage seems, so far from checking, absolutely to have aggravated 
the frightful profligacy and immorality which defiled the society and 
the literature of the country at the epoch of the Restoration, and which 
reached its highest intensity in compositions destined for the stage. 

§ 8. Perhaps the most remarkable peculiarity of the dramatic pro- 
fession at this period of our literary history was the frequent combina- 
tion, in one and the same person, of the qualities of player and 
dramatic author. I do not mean to imply, of course, that all- the 
actors of this splendid epoch were dramatists; but nearly all the dra- 
matic authors were actors by profession. This circumstance must have 
obviously exerted a mighty influence in modifying the dramatic produc- 
tions composed under such conditions — an influence not of course 
exclusively favorable, but which must have powerfully contributed to 
give to those productions that strong and individual character, that 
g-out du terrotr, which renders them so inimitable. It is evident that 
a dramatic writer, however great his genius, unacquainted practically 
with the mechanism of the stage, will frequently fail in giving to his 
work that directness and vivacity which is the essential element of 
popular success. Such a poet, writing in his closet under the influence 
not of scefit'c but of merelj'^ literary emotions, may produce admirable 
declamation, delicate anatomy of character, profound exhibition of 
human passion; but the most valuable element of scenic success, viz., 
drainatic effect^ rnay be entirely absent. This precious quality may be 
possessed by a writer with not a tithe of the genius of the former, and 
for the absence of this quality no amount of abstract literary merit can 
compensate. A striking example of this may be found in the French 
theatre. All the admirable qualities of Racine and Corneille have not 
been able to preserve their tragedies from comparative neglect as trage- 
dies, /. e. in a theatrical point of view. As literary compositions they 
will ahvays be studied and admired by every one who desires to make 
acquaintance with the higher qualities of the French language and 
poetry; but as tragedies, few persons can now witness their perform- 
ance without experiencing a sensation of weariness which they may 
attempt to disguise, but which they certainly cannot escape. It has 
been the fashion to explain this by attributing it to changes in the 
manners and habits of societj'^; but how happens it that the scenes of 
Moliere ahvays retain their freshness and vivacity? The rerson is, that 
Moliere, himself a skilful actor, as well as an unequalled painter of that 
range of comic character which he has delineated, gave to his piece? 
the element of scenic effect ; an element which will successfully replace 



A. D. 1580.] ACTORS AND AUTHORS. 123 

the absence of much higher literary qualities, and which can be acquired 
only by the instinct of the stage. An immense majority of the drama- 
tists of our Elizabethan theatre .were actors, and this is why their writ- 
ings are so often defiled by very gross faults of coarseness, violence, 
buffoonery, bombast, bad taste, and extravagance — such faults, in 
short, as were naturally to be expected from actor-authors writing in 
great haste, addressing themselves to a very miscellaneous public, and 
thinking not of future glory, but of immediate profit and success ; but 
at the same time it is the reason why their writings, despite of all these, 
and even graver faults, invariably possess intense dramatic interest, and 
an effectiveness for the absence of which no purely literary merit can in 
any way compensate. But though professional actors, this brilliant con- 
stellation of writers, by a chance which has never been repeated in liter- 
ary history, consisted of men of liberal and often learned education. 
Generally young men of strong passions, frequently of gentle birth, they 
in many cases left the university for the theatre, where they hoped to 
obtain an easy subsistence at a time when both writing for the stage 
and acting were well recompensed by the public, and where the joyous 
and irregular mode of life possessed such charms for ardent passions 
and lax morality. Their career was, in too many cases, a miserable 
succession of revelry and distress, of gross debauchery and ignoble 
privation ; but the examples of many showed that prudence and indus- 
try would be rewarded in this career with the same certainty as in oth- 
ers, and the success of Burbage, Alleyn, and Shakspeare can be put 
forward as the contrast to the debauched lives and miserable deaths of 
Marlowe, Greene, and Nash. This very irregularity of life, however, 
may have contributed to give to the works of this time that large spirit 
of observation, that universality of painting, which certainly distin- 
guished them. The career of these men, at least in its commencement 
and general outlines, was the same. They attached themselves, in the 
double quality of actors and poets, to one of the numerous companies 
then existing; and in many instances began their literary labors by 
rewriting and rearranging plays already exhibited to the public, and 
which a little alteration could often render more suitable to the peculiar 
resources of the company. Having by this comparatively humble 
work of making rechauffes acquired skill and facility, the dramatic 
aspirant would bring out an original work, either alone or in partner- 
ship with some brother playwright; and in this way he would be fairly 
started as a writer. It was of course very much to the interest of a 
company of actors to possess an exclusive right to the services of an 
able or popular dramatist; and his productions, while they remained 
in manuscript, continued to be the exclusive property of the company. 
Thus the troops of actors had the very strongest motive for taking 
every precaution that their pieces should 7iot be printed, publication 
instantly annihilating their monopoly, and allowing rival companies to 
profit by their labors; and this is the reason why comparatively so few 
of the dramas of this period, in spite of their unequalled merit and 
their great popularity, were ccmmitted to the press during the lives, at 



124 THE DAWN OF THE DRABIA. [Chap. VI. 

least, of their avithors. It also explains the singularly careless execu- 
tion of such copies as were printed, these having been given to the 
public in many cases surreptitiously, and in direct contravention to the 
wishes and interests of the author. It must be confessed that in the six- 
teenth century in England theatrical writing was considered the very 
lowest branch of literature, if indeed it was regarded as literature at 
all. The profession of actor, though often profitable, and exercised by 
many individuals with dignity and respectability, was certainly not 
looked upon by society in a very favorable light. The vices and prof- 
ligacy of many of its members seemed almost to justify the infamy 
stamped on the occupation by the old law, which classed plaj'ers with 
" rogues and vagabonds." Placed in such a social atmosphere, and 
exposed to such powerful and opposing influences, the dramatic author 
of those times was likely to exhibit precisely the tendencies which we ^ 
actually find characterizing his works, and recorded in his life. ^^--^^ 

§ 9. I will now give a rapid sketch of the principal English play- ' 
Wrights anterior to Shakspeare. John Lyly (b. about 1554) composed 
several court plaj's and pageants, and is supposed to have enjoyed in 
some degree the favor of Elizabeth, for we know that he was at one 
time a petitioner for the reversion of the ofiice of Master of the Revels. 
His few plays were written upon classical, or rather mythological sub- 
jects, as the story of Eiidymion, Sappho and P/iaon, and Alexander 
and Camfasfe. He has a rich and fantastic imagination, and his wTit-^ 
ings exhibit genius and elegance, though strongly tinctured with a 
peculiar kind of affectation with which he infected the language of the 
Court, the aristocracy, and even to a considerable degree literature . \^ 
itself, till it fell under the ridicule of Shakspeare, like the parallel 
absurdity in France, the Phlbus of the Hotel de Rambouillet, under 
the lash of the Prdci'euses Ridicules and the Critique de VEcolc dcs 
Fejnmes. Lyly was the English Gongora ; and his absurd though 
ingenious jargon, like the csiilo culto in Spain, became the fashionable 
affectation of the day. It consisted in a kind of exaggerated vivacity 
of imagery and expression ; the remotest and most unexpected analo- 
gies w^ere sought for, and crowded into every sentence. The reader 
may form some notion of this mode of writing (which was called Eu- 
phuism, from Lj'ly's once fashionable book entitled Euphues and his 
England^ by consulting the caricature of it which Scott has introduced 
in the character of the courtier Sir Piercy Shafton in The Monastery. 
In fact the Euphuism of Lyly was the somewhat exaggerated wit of 
the style of Sydney, still further outre. Lyly was a man of consider- 
able classical acquirements, and had been educated at Oxford. His 
lyrics are extremely graceful and harmonious, and even as a plaj'wright 
his merits are rather lyrical than dramatic. 

George Peele, like Lyly, had received a liberal education at Oxford. 
He was one of Shakspeare's fellow-actors and fellow-shareholders in 
the Blackfriars Theatre. He had also been employed by the City of 
London in composing and preparing those spectacles and shows which 
formed so great a portion of ancient civic festivity'. His earliest work, 



\ 



A. D. 1580.] EARLY DRAMATISTS. 125 

T/ze Arralgjiment of Paris, was printed anonymously in 1584. His 
most celebrated dramatic works were the David and Bcihsabe, and 
Absolom, in which there are great richness and beauty of language, and 
occasional indications of a high order of pathetic and elevated emotion; 
but his versification, though sweet, has little variety; and the luxuri- 
ous and sensuous descriptions in which Peele most delighted are so 
numerous that they become rather tiresome in the end. It should be 
remarked* that this poet was the first to give an example of that peculiar 
kind of historical play in which Shakspeare was afterwards so consum- 
mate a master. His Edvjard I. is, though monotonous, declamatory, 
and stiff", in some sense the forerunner of such works as Richard II., 
Richard III., or Ilciiry V. 

Thomas Kyd, who lived about the same time, is principally notice- 
able as having probably been the original author of that famous play 
upon which so many dramatists tried their hands in the innumerable 
recastings which it received, and which have caused it to be ascribed in 
succession to almost the whole body of the elder Elizabethan dramatists. 
Of this piece, in spite of its occasional extravagance, even the greatest of 
these authors might have been proud. It is called Hiero7iymo, the Span- 
ish Tragedy. Its popularity was very great, and furnishes incessant 
allusions to the playwrights of the day. The subject is exceedingly 
gloomy, bloodj', and dolorous ; but the pictures of grief, despair, re- 
venge, and madness, with which it abounds, not only testify high dra- 
matic power of conception, but must have been, as we know they were, 
exceedingly favorable for displaying the powers of a great tragic actor. 

Thomas Nash and Robert Greene, both Cambridge men, both 
sharp, and, I fear, mercenary satirists, and both alike in the profligacy 
of their lives and the misery of their deaths, though they may have 
eked out their income by occasionally writing for the stage, were in 
reality rather pasquinaders and pamphleteers than dramatists — con- 
dottieri of the press, shamelessly advertising the services of their ready 
and biting pen to any person or any cause that would pay them. They 
were both unquestionably men of rare powers ; Nash probably the bet- 
ter man and the abler writer of the two. Nash is famous for the bitter 
controversy he maintained with the learned Gabriel Harvey, whom he 
has caricatured and attacked in numerous pamphlets, in a manner 
equally humorous and severe. He was concerned with other drama- 
tists ~ in the production of a piece entitled Summers Last Will and 
Testament, and in a satirical comedy. The Isle of Dogs, which drew 
down upon him the anger of the Government, for we know that he 
was imprisoned for some time in consequence. 

Greene was, like Nash, the author of a multitude of tracts and 
pamphlets on the most miscellaneous subjects. Sometimes they were 
tales, often translated or expanded from the Italian novelists ; some- 
times amusing exposures of the various arts of cony-catching, i. e. 
cheating and swindling, practised at that time in London, and in which, 
it is to be feared, Greene was personally not unver-^ed ; sometimes 
moral confessions, like Nash's Pierce Pennilesse his Supplication to the 
II* 



126 THE DAWK OF TEE DRAMA. [Chap. VI. 

Devil, or Greene's Groatsroorth of Wit, purporting to be a warning to 
others against the consequences of unbridled passions. Some ot these 
confessions are exceedingly pathetic, and would be more so could the 
reader divest himself of a lurking suspicion that the whole is often a 
mere trick to catch a penn3^ The popularity of these tracts, we know, 
was very great. The only dramatic work we need specify of Greene's 
was George-a-Green, the legend of an old English popular hero, 
recounted with much occasional vivacity and humor. 

Thomas Lodge (1556-1625.?) is described by Mr. Collier as " second 
to Kyd in vigor and boldness of conception ; but as a drawer of char- 
acter, so essential a part of dramatic poetry, he unquestionably has the 
advantage." His principal work is a tragedy entitled The Hotttids of 
Civil War, lively set fort k in the Tivo Tragedies of Marius ajid Sylla 
(1594). He also composed, in conjunction with Greene, A Looking- 
Glassfor Lojtdon and England, the object of which is a defence of the 
^ stage against the Puritanical partj'. (See also p. 86.) 
^ § 10. But by far the most powerful genius among the dramatic poets 
who immediatel}"^ preceded Shakspeare was Christopher Marlowe 
(1563 .''-1 593). This man, if destiny had granted to him a longer life, 
which might have enabled him to correct the luxuriance of an ardent 
temperament and an unregulated imagination, might have left works 
that would have placed him very high among the foremost poets of his 
age. As it is, his remains strike us with as much regret as admiration 
— regret that such rare powers should have been so irregularly .culti- 
vated. Marlowe was born at Canterbury in 1563, and was educated 
at Cambridge. On leaving the University he joined a troop of actors, 
and is recorded to have bi-oken his leg upon the stage. His mode of 
life was remarkable for vice and debauchery, even in a profession so 
little scrupulous ; and he was strongly suspected by his contemporaries 
bf having been little better than an Atheist. His career was as short 
as it was disgraceful : he was stabbed in the head with his own dagger, 
which he had drawn in a disreputable scuffle with a disreputable antag- 
onist, in a disreputable place : and he died of this wound at the age of 
thirty. His works are not numerous, but they are strongly distinguished 
from those of preceding and contemporary dramatists by an air of 
astonishing power, energy, and elevation — an elevation, it is true, 
which is sometimes exaggerated into bombast, and an energy which 
occasionally degenerates into extravagance. His first work was the 
tragedy of Tamburlaine, and the rants of the declamation in this piece 
furnished rich materials for satire and caricature ; but in spite of this 
bombast the piece contains many passages of great power and beauty. 
Marlowe's best work is incontestably the drama of Faustus, founded 
upon the very same popular legend which Goethe adopted as the 
groundwork of his tragedy; but the point of view taken by ISIarlowe 
is far simpler than that of Goethe ; and the English poem contains no 
trace of the profound self-questioning of the German hero, of the 
extraordinary creation of Mephistopheles, nor anything like the 
pathetic episode of Margaret. The witch element, w^hich reigns so 



A. D. 1563-1593-] MARLOWE. '127 

wildly and picturesquely in the German poem, is here entirely absent 
But, on the other hand, there is certainly no passage in the tragedy of 
Goethe in which terror, despair, and remorse are painted with such a 
powerful hand, as the great closing scene of Marlowe's piece, when 
Faustus, after the twenty-four years of sensual pleasure which were 
stipulated in his pact with the Evil One, is waiting for the inevitable 
arrival of the Fiend to claim his bargain. This is truly dramatic, and 
is assuredly one of the most impressive scenes that ever were placed 
upon the stage. The tragedy of the J^etv of Malta, though inferior to 
Faustus, is characterized by similar merits and defects. The hero, 
Barabbas, is the type of the Jew as he appeared to the rude and bigoted 
imaginations of the fifteenth century — a monster half terrific, half 
ridiculous, impossibly rich, inconceivably bloodthirsty, cunning, and 
revengeful, the bugbear of an age of ignorance and persecution. 
Though the exploits of cruelty and retaliation upon his Christian 
oppressors make Barabbas a fantastic personage, the intense expres- 
sion of his rage, his triumph, and his despair, give occasion for many 
noble bursts of Marlowe's powerful declamation. The tragedy of 
Edxvard II., which was the last of this great poet's works, shows that 
in some departments of his art, and particularly in that of moving ter- 
ror and pity, he might, had he lived, have become no insignificant 
rival of Shakspeare himself. The scene of the assassination of the 
unhappy king is worked up to a verj^ lofty pitch of tragic pathos. 
Charles Lamb observes that " the reluctant pangs of abdicating roy- 
alty in Edward furnished hints which Shakspeare scarce improved in 
his Richard II. ; and the death-scene of Marlowe's king moves pity 
and terror beyond any scene, ancient or modern, with which I am 
acquainted." Marlowe was the morning star that heralded the rising 
of the great dramatic Sun. 

§ 11. I pass over the names of a number of comparatively insignifi- 
cant authors who appeared about this time, whose dramatic works have 
not yet been collected and printed. They in some instances, according 
to the custom of that age, either composed plays in partnership, or 
revised and altered plays written before, so that it is exceedingly difli- 
cult to assign to each playwright his just share of merit. There are, 
however, two or three pieces which have corhe down to us, either anony- 
mous, or at least attributed to so many difterent authors, that it is now 
impossible to father them with pi-ecision. Some of these pieces are of 
great merit, and others are curious as being examples of the practice 
which afterwards became general in our theatre, of dramatizing either 
episodes from the chronicle history of our own or other countries (of 
which class we may cite the old Hamlet, The Famous Victories, and King 
Johii), or remarkable crimes — causes cH^bres — which had attracted 
the public attention by their unusual atrocity or the romantic nature 
of their details. Good examples of these are Ardcn of Fever sham, and 
The Yorkshire Tragedy, both founded on fact, both works of no mean 
merit, and both attributed, though without any probability, to the pen 
of Shakspeare. 



^^8 SHAKSPEARE. [Chap. VII 

CHAPTER VII. 

SHAKSPEARE. A. D. 1564-1616. 

J 1. Parentage and education of Shakspeare. § 2, His early life and marriage; 
§ 3. He comes to London, joins the Globe Theatre, and turns author. ^ 4. Com« 
pany of the Globe Theatre. ^ 5, Shakspeare's career at the Globe. His act 
ing. ^ 6. Continuation of his life. His success and prudence. Returns to 
Stratford. ^ His death. § 7. Classification of his Dramas into History and 
Fiction. Sources of the Dramas. § 8. His treatment of the Historical Dra- 
mas. § 9. His treatment of the Dramas founded upon Fiction. § 10, Hia 
Venus and Adonis, Rape of Lucrece, and Sonnets. 

§ 1. William Shakspeare was born on the 23d of April, 1564, in 
the small county town of Stratford-on-Avon, Warwickshire, and was 
baptized on the 26th of the same month. His father, John Shakspeare, 
respecting whose trade and position in life much controversy has been 
raised, was, in all probability, a fellmonger and wool-dealer, to which 
commerce he appears to have added that of glover or manufacturer of 
the many articles of dress that were then made of leather. He unques- 
tionably belonged to the burgher or shopkeeper class ; but had married 
an heiress of ancient and even knightly descent, Isabella Arden or 
Arderne, the scion of a family which had figured in the courtly and 
warlike annals of preceding reigns; and thus in the veins of the great 
poet of humanity ran blood derived from both the aristocratic and 
popular portions of the community. Isabella Arderne had brought her 
husband in dowry a small freehold propei^ty; but this acquisition, 
though apparently advantageous, seems to have been vdtimately the 
cause of misfortune to the family; for John Shakspeare, who had ori- 
ginally been a thriving and prosperous tradesman, gradually descended, 
during the boyhood and youth of his illustrious son, to a condition of 
comparative indigence. This is to be attributed, as far as may be 
guessed, to his acquisition of land having tempted him to engage, with- 
out experience, in agricultural pursvjits, which ended disastrously in his 
being obliged at difterent times to mortgage and sell not only his farm, 
but even one of the houses in Stratford of which he had been owner. 
He at last retained nothing but that small, but now venerable dwelling, 
consecrated to all future ages by being the spot where the greatest of 
poets first saw the light, and which will ever be carefully preserved as 
the shrine of England's greatest glory. That John Shakspeare had 
been originally in flourishing circumstances is amply proved by his 
having long been one of the Aldermen of Stratford, and having served 
the office of Bailift' or Mayor in 1568. His distresses appear to have 
become severe in 1579, when he was excused by his brethren of the 
municipality from contributing a small sum at a time of public calam- 



A. D. 1564-1616.] SHAKSPEARE. 129 

ity, an exemption grounded, probably, on his poverty. He also, most 
likely from the same cause, was obliged to resign his post of Alder- 
man ; and seems at the end of his life to have been entirely dependent 
upon the assistance of his son, when the latter, as he speedily did, 
raised himself to a position of competence, and even of affluence. 

These details will not be regarded as trivial by any one who will 
reflect how closely connected they are with the important and much- 
agitated question of the kind and degree of education enjoyed by Wil- 
liam Shakspeare — a question of the very deepest iiftport in fixing our 
estimate of his works and our appreciation of his genius. That he 
could have derived even the most elementary instruction from his 
parents is impossible; for we know that neither John nor Isabella Shak- 
speare could write — an accomplishment, however, which, it should be 
remarked, was comparatively rare in Elizabeth's reign, in even a higher 
class of society than the one to which such persons belonged. Fat we 
are not to conclude from this, as is done by those who think to elevate 
the genius of the great poet by denying him all the advantages of 
regular instruction, that the poverty and ignorance of his parents 
necessarily deprived him of education. There existed at that time, and 
there exists at the present day, in the borough of Stratford, one of those 
endowed " free grammar-schools" of which so many countr^^ towns in 
England ofler examples, where the pious charity of past ages has pro- 
vided for the gratuitous edvication of posterity. In these establishments 
provision is always made for the children of the burgesses of the town ; 
and to the old grammar-school in Stratford, founded in the reign of 
Edward IV., it is quite certain that John Shakspeare had the right, as 
Alderman and Past Bailiff" of the town, of sending his son without ex- 
pense. It is inconceivable that he should have neglected to avail him- 
self of so useful a privilege : and that William enjoyed at all events the 
advantage of such elementary instruction as was offered by the gram- 
mar-schools of those days, is rendered more than probable, not only 
by the extensive though irregular reading of which his woi'ks give 
evidence, but by one among the vague traditions which have descended 
to us. This legend relates that the poet had been " in his youth a 
schoolmaster in the country," a fact which cannot, of course, be strictly 
true, as we know at what an early age he left his native town to enter 
upon his career of actor and author in the Globe Theatre in London. 
It may, however, be the misrepresentation of fact, namely, that after 
passing through the lower classes of Stratford Grammar-School he 
may have been employed, as a lad of his aptitude would not improba- 
bly have been, in assisting the master in instructing the junior pupils. 

§ 2. Among the various legends connected with the early life of so 
great a man, and which posterity, in the singular absence of more 
trustworthy details, swallows with greediness, the most celebrated and 
romantic is that which represents his youth as irregular and even 
profligate, and in particular recounts his deer-stealing expedition, in 
company with other riotous young fellows, to Sir Thomas Lucy's park 
at Charlcote, near Stratford. The young poacher, who had " broken 



130 SIIAKSPEARE. [Chap. VII. 

the park, stolen the deer, and kissed the keeper's daughter," is said to 
ha%'e been seized, brought before the indignant Justice of the Fence, and 
treated with so much severity by Sir Thomas, that he revenged himself 
on the rural magnate by affixing a doggerel pasquinade to the gates of 
Charlcote. The wrath of the magistrate is said to have blazed so high 
at this additional insolence that Shakspeare was obliged to withdraw 
himself from more serious persecution by escaping to London. Here, 
continues the legend, which is so circumstantial and picturesque that 
we cannot but regret its total want of proof and probability, the young 
poet arrived in such deep poverty, as to be for some time reduced to 
earn a livelihood by holding horses at the doors of the theatres, where 
'•his pleasant wit" attracting the notice of the actors, he ultimately 
obtained access " behind the scenes," and by degrees became a cele- 
brated actor and valuable dramatic author. Eager as we are for every 
scrap of personal information which can help to realize so great a man 
as Shakspeare, we are naturally reluctant to renounce our belief in so 
striking a story ; but, though the deer-stealing story may very possibly 
be not altogether devoid of foundation, the romantic incidents connect- 
ed with his leaving Stratford and embracing the theatrical career, are 
to be explained in a different and much less improbable manner. It is 
quite certain that he left his native town in 15S6, at the age of twenty-two ; 
and it is quite possible that the distressed situation in which his parents 
then were, and, what is no less likeh', the imprudence and irregularity 
of his own youthful conduct, may have contributed to render a longei 
stay in Stratford disagreeable, if not impossible. One event, which had 
occurred about four years, before, most probably contributed more 
powerfully to send him forth *' to seek his fortune," than the ire of Sir 
Thomas Lucy, or the perhaps not very enviable reputation which his 
boyish escapades had probably acquired among the steady burgesses 
of the little town, who probably shook their heads at the young scape- 
grace, prophesying that he would never come to any good. This event 
was his marriage, contracted when he was only eighteen, in 1582, v^'ith 
Anne Hathaway, the daughter of a small farmer, little above the rank of a 
laboring man, who resided at the hamlet of Shotterv, about two miles 
from Stratford. Anne Hathaway was seven years and a half older than 
her boy-husband ; and the marriage appears to have been pressed on 
with eager haste, probably by the relatives of the bride, who may have 
forced young Shakspeare to heal a breach which he had made in the 
young woman's reputation. There is still in existence the undertaking, 
legally signed by the parties, giving Shakspeare, then a minor, the 
power of contracting marriage. The whole of this important episode 
in the poet's life bears strong trace of a not over reputable family mys- 
terv. The fruit of this union was first a daughter Susanna, the poet's 
favorite child, born in 1583. and in the following j^ear twins, Judith and 
Ilamnet. The latter, the poet's only son, died at twelve years of age ; his 
two '^'aughters survived him. After these he had no more children ; and 
there are several facts which seem to point, significantly though ob- 
scurely, to the conclusion that the married life .of the, poet was not 



A. D. 1564-1616.] SUAKSPEARE. 13\ 

marked bj that love and confidence which is the usual result of well- 
considered and well-assorted unions. Thus, though Shakspeare passed 
the most active portion of his life, from 15S6 to 161 1, almost constantly' 
in London, there is evidence to show that his wife, during the whole of 
that long period, never resided with her husband, but with his parents 
in Stratford ; and therefore could only have seen him on the occasions, 
probably pretty frequent, of his flying visits to his native place. In the 
great poet's Will, too, which invaluable document gives us so many 
details concerning his private life, Mrs. Shakspeare appears to be 
treated in a manner very different from that which a beloved and re- 
spected wife might have expected from so generous and gentle a charac- 
ter as William Shakspeare's unquestionably was. To his wife the 
poet leaves only " his second-best bed, with the hangings," a very 
slighting and inconsiderable legacy when we reflect that he died com- 
paratively rich.* 

Concerning the boj^hood and youth of the great painter of nature 
and of man we know little or nothing. It is more than probable that 
his education was neglected, his passions strong, and his conduct far 
from regular : yet we may in some sort rejoice at the destiny which 
allowed him to draw his earliest impressions of nature from the calm 
and graceful scenery of Warwickshire, and placed him in a situation to 
study the passions and characters of men among the unsophisticated 
inhabitants of a small provincial town. Perhaps, too, the very imper- 
fection of his intellectual training was an advantage to his genius, in 
allowing his gigantic powers to develop themselves, untrammelled by 
the bonds of regular education. It is not improbable that atone period 
of his youth he had been placed in the office of some country practitioner 
of the law : in all his works he shows an extraordinary knowledge of the 
technical language of that profession, and frequently draws his illustra- 
tions from its vocabulary. Besides, such terms as he employs he 
almost always employs correctly; which would hardly be possible but 
to one who had been professionally versed in them : add to which in 
one of the few ill-natured and satirical allusions made to Shakspeare by 
his conteiuporary rivals, there is a distinct indication of the poet's hav- 
ing in his youth exercised " the trade of Noverint," that is, the occupa- 
tion of a lawyer's clerk, this word being the usual commencement ot 
writs — " noverint universi." 

§ 3. At the age of twenty-two, therefore, Shakspeare,now the father o. 
three children, in all probability not enjoying in his native place a very 
enviable reputation, without means of support, his father having at this 
time descended to a very low ebb of worldly fortunes, for we know that 
at this period, 1586, he was obliged to retire altogether from the 
municipal council, determined upon the great step of leaving Stratford 
altogether, and embarking on the wide ocean of London theatrical life. 
The story of his being reduced to hold horses at the doors of theatres is 

* On the other hand, it should be recollected that, as Shakspeare's property 
was chiefly freehold, his wife was entitled to dower. 



132 SIIAKSPEARE. [Chap. VII. 

too absurd to deserve a moment's consideration. In the first place it is 
established by a thousand passages and allusions in the dramatic com- 
positions of that day, that the audiences universally visited the theatres 
either on foot or in boats, for which facility these establishments were 
built upon the banks of the Thames, then a much more convenient 
highway than the narrow and tortuous streets of London of the six- 
teenth century. Consequently there could be no horses to hold. 
Secondly, it is not conceivable that a young man endowed with such 
talents as Shakspeare, talents of which he had most certainly given 
evidence in his early poems, many of them probably written before this 
time, should have found the least difficulty in entering a profession so 
easy of access as the theatre then was. The companies of actors were 
always glad to enlist among them such men of ready genius as could 
render themselves useful as performers and dramatists ; and this com- 
bined occupation Shakspeare, like Ben Jonson, Marlowe, and many 
others of his contemporaries, fulfilled with an aptitude of Avhich the 
proofs are evident. Besides, theatrical performances had before this 
time been popular in Warwickshire. Various companies had visited 
Stratford in thei^* summer peregrinations, SLsd had performed for the 
amusement of the corporation. The greatest tragic actor of that day, 
Richard Burbage, was a Warwickshire man, and Thomas Greene, a 
distinguished member of the troop of the Globe, then the first theatre 
in London, was a native of Stratford, and is by many supposed to have 
been even a relation of Shakspeare. Nothing, therefore, is more prob- 
able than that the young adventurer, whose talents could not have been 
unknown, received an invitation to throw in his lot with the company 
of the Globe. It is certain that he joined that undertaking; for we find 
him in 15S9, that is, only three j'^ears after his arrival in London, en- 
rolled among the shareholders of the above theatre, his name being the 
eleventh in a list of fifteen. It will be remembered, as I have indicated in 
a preceding chapter, that the number of shareholders in the Elizabethan 
theatrical companies was generally small, and that the profits of the 
representation were divided among them ; the additional actors neces- 
sary for the performance being *' hired men," receiving a fixed salary, 
and having no claim upon the general profits of the undertaking. Like 
other young men of that time, he rendered himself useful to his com- 
pany in the double capacity o^ actor and arranger of ^pieces : and there 
is no reason to suppose that his professional career differed from that 
of Marlowe, Jonson, Fletcher, Ford, and others, in any respect save in 
the industry and success with which he pursued his double calling, and 
the prudence with which he accumulated the pecuniary results of that 
activity. He began, in all probability, by adapting old plays to the 
exigencies of his theatre, and while engaged in this humble employment 
acquired that consummate knowledge of stage effect which distinguished 
him., and which first struck out the spark of that inimitable dramatic 
genius which places him above all other poets in the world. His con- 
nection with the theatre continued from 1586 to his retirement in 161 1, 
a period of twenty-five j'ears, embracing the splendor of his youth and 



A. D. 1564-1616.] SlIAKSPEARE. 133 

the vigor of his manhood. It is between these dates that were produced 
the thirty-seven dramas which compose his best-known works. 

It would evidently be no less curious than useful could we establish, 
with some degree of accuracy, the dates and sequence of these thirty- 
seven plays : such an investigation would furnish us with inestimable 
materials for tracing the intellectual and artistic development of the 
greatest of all dramatists ; but though many such attempts have been 
made, some of them with extraordinary acuteness and erudition, none 
of them have resulted even in an approach to a satisfactory chronology 
of Shakspeare's dramatic histor3^ The notices of the first performance 
of some of these wonderful works, the minute examination of possible 
historical allusions contained in them, the order of their sequence in 
the first complete edition of the plays, which was not given to the 
world till 1623, that is, seven years after the poet's death, all these 
apparently promising materials for establishing a sound theory of their 
order of composition, will be found on trial not to be relied on. Inter- 
nal evidence founded upon shades of style and a higher or lower degree 
of artistic perfection in treatment, is a test of a still more tempting but 
even more visionary nature; and from the employment of all these 
methods combined we may indeed sometimes class the plays of Shak- 
speare into certain great but not very accurately marked periods, but 
we can never hope to attain anything like an exact chronological order. 
This is of course to be deeply regretted, but cannot be an object of sur- 
prise; for during the whole of his literary career our great dramatic 
master-workman, in all likelihood, continued to adapt and arrange old 
plays as well as to compose original pieces ; and working for bread, and 
probably with great rapidity, he was not scrupulous as to how far the 
inferior composition of an earlier and ruder poet passed for his own 
production. This consideration will also explain the extraordinary 
difference in point of merit, literary as well as theatrical, which even 
the least critical reader maj' discern in his performances, some of them, 
as Othello for example, being specimens of the most consummate per- 
fection both in style and construction, while others, as Titus A?idroni- 
cus, Pericles^ and parts oi Henry VI., are not only markedly inferior to 
his other compositions, but are unworthy of a dramatist even of the 
humblest pretensions. O^P 

§ 4. The Company of the Globe Theatre, to which Shakspeare / 
remained attached as an actor and shareholder during the whole of his 
London career, was, as I have said, the richest and most prosperous 
of the numerous troops that then furnished amusement to the capital. 
Their principal place of representation was the playhouse which gave 
them their name, so called from its sign bearing the effigy of Atlas 
supporting the globe, with the motto " Totus Mundus agit Histrionem,'' 
and was situated on the Bankside in Southwark near the Surrey ex- 
tremity of London Bridge. Most of the theatres of that day were 
placed on the river's bank in the southern suburb of the capital, partly, 
no doubt, for the convenience of access by water, but mainly to place 
them out Af the jurisdiction of the Corporation of London, which, being 
12 



1 84 SUA K^PKARE. [Chap^ VII. 

at that time deeply infected with Puritan doctrines, used all its efforts 
to discountenance and crush the players. The enmity between the 
"witty vagabonds" of the theatre and the fanatic Aldermen was 
envenomed by incessant jokes and pasquinades on the part of the for- 
mer, and by constant persecution from the latter: and on the ultimate 
triumph of the Puritans at the outbreak of the Civil War, the vindic- 
tive bigotry of the city succeeded in completely annihilating the theatre. 
The Globe company was undoubtedly the most respectable as well as 
the most prosperous of the then theatres, and partly by prudently 
avoiding to give offence by political allusions, and partly by securing 
powerful protection at Court, as for instance that of Lord Keeper 
Egerton and the accomplished Earl of Southampton, the liberal patron 
and personal friend of Shakspeare himself, this society obtained the 
unusual permission of opening, as a theatre, a private house altered 
for the purpose, in the forbidden precincts of London itself. This was 
the Blackfriars plaj'house, situated nearly on the exact spot now occ 
pied by the printing-house of the Times newspaper. This edifice, 
much smaller than the Globe, was entirely roofed over, and the com- 
pany were in the habit of performing here in the winter, whereas dur- 
ing the summer their representations were given on the Bankside, the 
inclemency of the weather being then less inconvenient. 

§ 5. Guided by the faint and feeble lights of tradition and occasional 
obscure allusions in the writings of the day, we may trace Shakspeare's 
professional and literary career from his joining the Globe company in 
1589 till his retirement from active life in 161 1. That career appears to 
have been a highly successful one. During the first years he probably 
rendered himself useful to his theatr^ as an actor; and here arises the 
question of the degree of talent he displayed in this branch of his pro- 
fession ; some maintaining him to have been a tragic and comic per- 
former of the first class, while others accord him only a very moderate 
amount of talent. That he was better acquainted than perhaps any 
man has ever been with the theoretic principles of the actor's art is 
unquestionable from many passages in his writings ; it will suffice to 
allude to the inimitable " directions to the players" put into the mouth 
of Hamlet, which, in incredibly few words, contain the whole system 
of the art. But in all probability the truth, as far as regards his own 
personal proficiency as a performer, lies between the two extremes. 
From some clear and other obscure indications, we may guess at cer- 
tain parts which he acted in his own dramas as in those of other poets. 
Thus we have good authority for supposing that he acted the Ghost in 
his tragedy of Hamlet ; the secondary, but graceful and touching char- 
acter of Adam, the faithful old servant, in his As Tou Like It ; the 
passionate and deeply pathetic impersonation of grief and despair 
in Kyd's popular tragedy of Hiero7iymo ; and the sensible citizen. Old 
Knowell, in Ben Jonson's Every Man In His Humor. Such parts, it is 
evident, would never have been intrusted, in a company so rich in 
talent as was that of the Globe, to an incompetent actor : at the same 
time they all belong to a particular and perhaps secondary type, from 



A. D. 1564-1616.] SHAKSPEARE. 135 

■which we may conclude that Shakspeare's line or einplot, as it is now 
called in the technical jargon of the English and French stages, v/as 
that of the old men — the pcrcs nobles. It is probable, however, that 
he soon abandoned the practice of appearing, except perhaps occa- 
sionalh^ on the stage, and found that his services as an adapter and 
arranger of plays, and then as an original author, were more valuable 
to his troop than his exertions as an actor. Burbage, we know, was 
the original and most popular performer of his comrade's great tragic 
creations, Richard III., Hamlet, Othello, and the like. 

§ 6. Shakspeare's first original poems were not dramatic; he must 
be regarded as the creator of a peculiar species of narrative composi- 
tion which was destined to achieve an immediate and immense popu- 
larity. Venus and Adonis, which, in his dedication to Lord Southamp- 
ton, he calls " the first heir of his invention," was published in 1593. 
It is highly pi'obable that this poem — exhibiting all the luxuriant 
sweetness, the voluptuous tenderness, of a youthful genius — was con- 
ceived, if not composed, at Stratford. The Raj>e of Lticrece, a some- 
what similar but inferior work, written, like its companion, in a species 
of Italian stanza, enjoyed a great but inferior popularity. The former 
"of these works was reissued in five several editions between the years 
1593 and 1602; while the JLucrcce, during nearly the same lapse of 
time, appeared in thi-ee. The first years of Shakspeare's theatrical life 
were probablj- devoted to mere arrangement and adaptation of old 
plays ; and the traces of his pen might perhaps be found in an immense 
number of works of earlier dramatists — Kyd, Marlowe, Lyly, &c. 
Even among his published and collected works, several — as Pericles, 
Titus Andronicus, Henry VI., perhaps much oi Heyiry VIII. — seem 
to be examples of this ; and though difficult, it would not be impossi- 
ble to track his genius here and there through the rude and undigested 
chaos of the older playwright, vivifying some stroke of passion or 
character, or interspersing one of those inimitable touches of descrip- 
tion and reflection which glow and sparkle like gems amid the rubbish 
of the original piece. At what period he began to be fully conscious 
cf his own vast powers, and abandoned such adaptation for original dra- 
matic composition, it is quite impossible to ascertain; for some of those 
immortal works which bear the strongest and deepest impress of his 
wondrous genius were undoubtedly based upon former productions by 
former hands, and had undergone repeated recastings and alterations 
by himself and others. As examples of this I may mention^ Hamlet, 
He?iry V., and King John. Shakspeare must have speedily risen to 
so much importance in the Globe company as sufficed to call down 
upon him the attacks of envious or disappointed rivals; for the learned 
and witty but disreputable Nash makes bitter allusions unmistakably 
pointing at Shakspeare's name and alleged want of learning, as well 
as at his activity in " bolstering out a blank verse," and producing 
"whole Hamlets, or handfuls, of tragical speeches." He is "Johannes 
Factotum," and on the strength of a few blustering commonplaces 
fancies himself " the only Shakescene [Shakspeare] in a country." 



13G SIIAKSPEARE. [Chap. VII, 

That he gradually and steadily rose in importance among his "fellows" 
is proved by his name, which in 1589 was eleventh in a list of fifteen 
shareholders, being found seven years afterwards fifth in a list of eight; 
ana again in the license renewed to the company on the accession of 
James I., Shakspeare stands second. In the scurrilous pamphlet enti- 
tled Greene's Groatstvorth of Wit^ published by Chettle after the death 
of that unhappy but clever profligate, there was a libellous attack upon 
Shakspeare, evidently dictated by the envy of a disappointed rival: but 
for this unfounded calumny Chettle was speedily obliged to apologize 
in the fullest manner, and in terms which bear high testimony not only 
to the great poet's genius as a writer, but to his respectability as a man, 
and to his amiable, gentle, and generous disposition — a quality which 
all contemporary notices conspire in attributing to our bard. 

But it is not only from the effusions of spite and literary jealousy 
that we can gain some feeble insight into Shakspeare's personal his- 
cory. It is quite certain that the accomplished Pembroke and the 
generous Southampton were his admirers and patrons. The former, 
indeed, is related to have made the poet a present of icxx)/. — an im- 
mense sum, if we take into consideration the far higher value of money 
in those days ; but though this princely gift was in all probability not a 
personal gratuity to Shakspeare, but rather a generous contribution to 
the support of the drama as represented by Shakspeare's company, anc> 
designed to assist them in building a new theatre, the action, neverthe- 
less, shows the high respect which the poet had inspired. That Shak- 
speare, in his business relations with the theatre and the public, exhibited 
great good sense, prudence, and knowledge of the world, seems proved 
by the skill with which the actors of the Globe managed to steer clear 
of the various dangers arising from the puritanic opposition of the 
London Corporation, and the still more serious perils incurred by 
offending, in political or satirical allusions, the susceptibility of thr 
Court and the Censorship, then so severe that almost all the other com- 
panies of players suffered more or less for their imprudences, some in 
the forcible closing of their theatres, some in the imprisonment of their 
autliors and performers. That the singular good fortune of the Globe 
company in this respect was in no small degree attributable to Shak- 
speare's prudence, or to the powerful patronage he had secured among 
the great, is rendered probable by the fact that no sooner had he retired 
from an active interference in the concerns of the theatre than repeated 
causes of complaint arose from the petulance of his comrades, and were 
punished with considerable severity. Shakspeare's worldly prosperity 
seems to have gone on steadily increasing, and he appears to have careful- 
ly invested his gains ; for in 1597, M'hen he was aged thirty-three, he pur- 
chased the landed estate of New Place in Stratford, and either built en- 
tirely or partially reconstructed a house long considered fhe most con- 
siderable in the town, and to which he determined to retire as soon as the 
state of his fortune would permit, to pass the evening of his life far from 
the turmoils of the stage, in the competency he had so wisely earned. 
During the whole of his London life he no doubt made frequent visits 



A. D. 1564-1616.] SHAKSPEARE. 137 

to his native place, keeping up & lively interest in the public and private 
affairs of his tov^^nsmen. He was able to afford a tranquil asjlum to his 
parents, who appear to have closed their lives under the protection of 
his roof. The death of his only son, Hamnet, in 1596, when the boy wag 
in his twelfth year, must have been a severe shock to so loving a heart; 
but in general his life seems to have been one of continued prosperity. In 
1602 he purchased one hundred and seven acres of land, and most prob- 
ably engaged in farming speculations, with the assistance of his brother 
Gilbert. Two years after this we get a curious insight into his private 
life, by finding him the plaintiff in an action for the delivery of a cer- 
tain quantity of malt, in which affair the justice of the case seems to 
have been entirely oh his side. About the same time he purchased a 
share in the tithes of Stratford, as a means of securing a safe revenue ; 
and there is extant an interesting note in which some of his townsmen 
employed him, as a man resident in London and well versed in business, 
to obtain a favorable hearing from the legal authorities in a matter con- 
cerning the enclosure of some lands near Stratford. In 1607 (the poet 
now aged forty-three) his favorite daughter Susanna married Dr. Hall, 
and in the following year she brought into the world a granddaughter 
to the dramatist. Both at the marriage and at the christening it is highly 
probable that Shakspeare visited Stratford. He certainly was godfather, 
at the latter period, to William Walker, the child of one of his friends 
and fellow-townsmen. In 1611, the poet, having disposed of most of 
his interest in the Globe, finally retired to New Place, where he lived 
with his daughter Mrs. Hall and her husband, who enjoyed a consider- 
able provincial reputation for medical skill, and who most probably 
treated his illustrious father-in-law in his last illness. Shakspeare did 
not long enjoy the retirement which he had labored for so long. He 
died, after a short illness, on the 23d April, the anniversary of his 
birthday, in 1616, having exactly completed his fifty-second year. A 
short time before his death his second daughter, Judith, was married to 
Thomas Qj.iiney ; but her career in life appears to have been altogether 
humbler than her sister's. Respecting the details of Shakspeare's last 
illness and decease we have no information. Dr. Hall indeed has left 
us a curious record of some of the most remarkable cases occurring in 
his practice, but unluckily his notes exhibit a void for the years before 
and after this precise period. There exists indeed a tradition that the 
great poet had been suffering from fever, when, desiring to entertain 
with his usual hospitality Ben Jonson and Drayton, who had come 
down from London to visit him, he imprudently arose from his bed, 
and brought on a relapse by sharing too freely in conviviality. He was 
buried in the parish church of Stratford, the registers of which furnish 
the greater part of the meagre though trustworthy information we 
possess concerning the family vicissitudes of the Shakspeares. Over 
his grave is erected a mural monument in the Italianized taste of that 
day, which is chiefly remarkable as containing a bust of the poet — an 
authentic though not very well executed portrait. Indeed the like- 
nesses of Shakspeare, whether sculptured, painted, or engraved, are 
12* 



138 SITAKSPEARE. [Chap. VII. 

nelthei v^l/ numerous nor altogether to be relied on. The bust just 
mentioned, and thecoaije engraving bjDroeshout, prefixed to the first 
folio edition of his works in 1623, appear to have the best claims to our 
confidence. Ihe latter, in particular, is vouched for as a faithful re- 
semblance in the eulogistic verses placed under it bj Ben Jonson, w^ho 
knew^ intimately his ijreat contemporary, and was not a man to assert 
what he did not think. 

The tomb and the birthplace of Shakspeare will ever be sacred spots 

— shrines of loving pilgrimage for all the nations of the earth. The 
house of New Place has long been destroyed, but the garden in which 
it stood, as well as the house where the poet was born, will be preserved 
to the latest ages by the piety of his countrymen and the veneration of 
the civilized world. A short time before his death Shakspeare made 
his will ; and thus we have, singularly enough, a very exact account of 
the nature and extent of his property at the time of his decease. In the 
mode of its disposal we see evident traces of that kind and affectionate 
disposition which every proof seems to establish as having characterized 
him — a careful remembrance of his old comrades and " fellows," to 
each of whom he leaves some token of regard, generally a ring. This 
document is unspeakably precious to us on another ground, viz. from 
its containing his signature twice repeated. These and one or two 
more autographs, consisting likewise of nothing more than the signa- 
ture, are literally the only specimens that have been preserved of the 
writing of that immortal hand. V ,, 

§ 7. It is with the most unfeigned diffidence — diffidence arising from 
a veneration which no words can express — that I approach the difficult 
but delightful task of examining the writings of Shakspeare. From 
the number, no less than the excellence, of the dramatic portion of 
these works, it will be absolutely necessary to employ some method 
of classifying them into groups. This would possess the advantage 
of conciseness in the treatment, as W2II as of assisting the memory of 
the student. The most valuable principle of classification would be one 
based upon the chronological order of production, because such a 
method would give us a chart of the intellectual and artistic develop- 
ment of Shakspeare's mind, enabling us to trace the course of that ma- 
estic river from its first sparkling but irregular sources to the full flow 
of its calm and mightj^ current : but this mode, as has already been 
pointed out, though it has exercised the ingenuity and research of many 
laborious and acute investigators, has furnished no results which can 
be depended upon ■■ — a fact evidenced by the extreme discrepancy 
among the various sj^stems of chronological arrangement which have 
hitherto been given to the world. Upon the order of the pieces as givea 
in the first folio edition, published in 1623 by Hemings and Condell, 
Shakspeare's friends and " fellows," it is evident no reliance can be 
placed. Independently of the many contradictions and impossibilities 
involved in the adoption of their order as the true order of composition 

— impossibilities which are obvious on a superficial examination — the 
extreme negligence of the printing of that edition, in evincing a total 



A. D. 1564-1616.] SHAKSPEARE. 13^ 

absence of care in the editing and correction of the press, leads us 
inevitably to the conclusion that, in spite of the assurances of the editors 
as to its having been based upon the "papers" of their immortal col- 
league, the publication must be regarded as, little better than a hasty 
speculation, carelessly entered into for the purpose of snatching a 
momentary and not very honorable profit, without much regard to t^ 
literary reputation of the great poet. (J/^ 

Another mode of classifying Shakspeare's dramas is founded on the 
principle of ranging them respectively under the heads of Tragedies, 
Comedies, and Histories or Historical Plays, without attempting to 
enter into the question of the order of their production ; and this 
sj'stem has at all events the advantage of clearness, as well as that of 
dividing them into manageable groups, easily retained in the memory. 
This is the principle upon which are based most of the editions of the 
dramas. But this method is in some measure open to objection. 
Though some of the pieces (such as Othello. Lear, Hatnlet) are dis- 
tinctly tragedies, in the ordinary sense of that word, — a sense common 
to the critical nomenclature both of the Classical and Romantic types of 
the drama, — and though others (as As Tou Like It, the Merry Wives 
of Windsor, the Taming of the Shrew, or Twelfth Night) are as 
evidently comedies, there exists a considerable number of the plays 
which, from their tone and incidents, might be ranged equally under 
both heads. Nay, in all the pieces of Shakspeare we find such a mix- 
ture of the tragic and comic elements as would withdraw them equally 
from the strongly marked boundaries appropriated, as in the French 
theatre for instance, respectively to Tragedy and Comedy ; and where 
Thalia and Melpomene are never permitted to intrude upon each other's 
domains. Indeed, as has been said some pages back, it is precisely 
this mixture of tragedy and comedy in the same piece, the same char- 
acter, the same scene, and in even the same phrase, which constitutes 
the peculiar distinguishing trait of the noble romantic drama of Eng- 
land in the Shakspearian Age ; and not only its distinguishing trait, 
but also, in the opinion of the English reader, as well as of the most 
profound art-critics of Germany, its peculiar excellence and title of 
superiority, as a picture of life and nature, over the national drama of 
every other country. 

There remains a third mode of classification, which we may adopt as 
not devoid either of convenience or of philosophic truth ; and this is 
based upon the sources from which Shakspeare drew the materials for 
his dramatic creations. If we follow the classification according to the 
three heads we have just been alluding to, we shall find that the thirty- 
seven plays composing the collection will range themselves as follows : 
eleven tragedies, two tragi-comedies, ten historical plays, and fourteen 
comedies. But the classification according to sources will give some- 
what difierent results. The sources in question will naturally divide 
themselves first into the two great genera — History and Fiction, Wahr- 
heit und Dichtung ; while the former of these two genera will naturally 
subdivide into different classes or degrees of historical authenticity, 



140 SHAKSPEARE. [Chap. VII 

ranging from vague and half-poetical legend to the comparatively firm 
ground of recent historical events. Again, the legendary category 
may be referred to the different countries from whose chi-onicles the 
events were borrowed : thus Hamlet is taken from the Danish chroni- 
cler Saxo-Grammaticus ; Macbeth, Lear, and Cyinbelinc refer respec- 
tively to the legends, more or less fabulous, of Scottish and British 
history; while Coriola7ius, Julius Ccesar, and Antony and Cleopatra 
are derived from the annals of ancient Rome. Many of the historical 
dramas of Shakspeare are intended to depict the events of the more 
recent and consequently more reliable details of the history of his own 
country; and these, beginning with /w;z^ John and terminating with 
Henry VIII., embrace materials possessing various shades of authen- 
ticity, fi-om what may be called the semi-legendary to a degree of pre- 
cision as great as could be expected in the then state of historical 
literature. For these pieces Shakspeare mainly drew his materials 
from the old annalist Hollinshed ; and both in their form and peculiar 
excellences this class of dramas, though not perhaps invented by 
Shakspeare, was certainly carried by him to a wonderful degree of 
perfection. These pieces are not tragedies or comedies in the strict 
sense of the word, but they are grand panoramas of national glory or 
national distress, embracing often a very considerable space of time, 
even a whole reign, and retracing — with apparent irregularity in their 
plan, but with an astonishing unity of general feeling and sentiment — 
great epochs in the life of the nation. Examples of such will be found 
in Richard II., Richard III., the two unequalled dramas on the reign 
of Henry IV., and the glorious chant of patriotic triumph embodied in 
Henry V., in which Shakspeare has completed the type of the Hero- 
King. To such pieces is applied the particular designation of Histo- 
ries; and of such histories Shakspeare, though not the inventor, was 
certainly the most prolific author. 

The second general category, that of pieces derived from fiction, need 
not detain us long. The materials for this — the largest — class of his 
dramas, Shakspeare derived from the Italian novelists and their imita- 
tors, who supplied the chief element of light literature in the sixteenth 
century. The most brilliant type of this species of writer was Boc- 
caccio, whose Novelle, translated and copied into all the tongues of 
Europe, furnished a mass of excellent materials, from Chaucer down to 
Lafontaine. These short tales, which so long formed the predominant 
type of the literature of amusement in many countries, were in many 
instances derived from a still more ancient source — the fabliaux and 
piquant stories with which the narrative poets, the moralists, and theo- 
logians of the middle ages enlivened their compositions; but in the 
form which they ultimately attained in Boccaccio and his innumerable 
imitators they were most singularly adapted to furnish an appropriate 
canvas or groundwork upon which Shakspeare was to construct his 
humorous or pathetic actions. In the first place, these tales were, from 
the nature of the case, exceedinglj^ short ; they depended for their pop- 
ularity rather upon amusing and surprising incidents than upon any 



A. D. 1564-1616.] SHAKSPEARE. 141 

development of character, which would have been ^mpract^cable within 
the narrow limits of a few pages. In dramatizing such stories, there- 
fore, the playwright enjoyed full liberty for the exercise of his peculiar 
talent of portraj-ing human character, while at the same time he had 
ready prepared to his hand a series of striking events which he could 
compress or expand as best suited his purpose ; he was left free just 
where freedom was most essential to his particular form of art, and 
spared the necessity of invention precisely where the task of invention 
would be likely to embarrass him. It is susceptible of proof that in 
no one instance has Shakspeare taken the trouble of inventing the plot 
of a piece for himself; certainly from no want of genius, but simply 
from his consummate knowledge of his art. He knew that he would 
act more profitably for his dramatic success by combining materials 
already prepared, and directing all his energies to that department in 
which he has never met an equal — the exhibition of human nature and 
human passion. How nobly he performed his task. may be perceived 
by a simple comparison of the original novel or legend which he selected 
as the groundwork of his pieces, with such creations as Ot/iello, the 
Tempest, or the Merchant of Ve?iice. The number of Shakspeare's 
pieces derived from fiction amounts to eighteen ; hy far the majority of 
these are traceable, as already remarked, to the Italian novelists and 
their French or Spanish imitators. We are not, however, to infer that 
the great poet necessarily consulted the tales in the original language. 
From a careful examination of his works it seems to result that our 
great dramatist has rarelj"^, if ever, made use, whether in the way of 
subjects for his plays or quotations introduced into the dialogue, of any 
ancient or foreign materials not then existing 121 English translations : 
and this important fact, while it does not necessarily lead to the mon- 
strous conclusion of his having been a totally illiterate man, yet fur- 
nishes proof that Ben Jonson was neither an envious carper nor a 
malicious perverter of the truth when, in his exquisite tribute to the 
genius and virtues of his departed friend, he qualifies him as having 
" small Latin and less Greek." We may also remark that what Jon- 
son, one of the most learned men of his day, may have expressed by 
tmall may have been in reality no inconsiderable tincture of scholar- 
ship. 

The following general classification may be found not altogether use- 
less nor uninteresting : in it I have endeavored to combine, together 
with a rough indication of the class to which each piece belongs, the 
particular origin whence Shakspeare drew his materials : — 

I. Hl^ORY. 

i. Legendary : — 

Hamlet (Tragedy). The Chronicle of Saxo-Grammaticus, and 

an older play. ■'. 

King Lear (Tragedy). Hollinshed, and older dramas. ^^ 

Cytnbeline (Tragi-comedy). Hollinshed, and old French ro- 



142 SlIAKSPEARE. [Chap. VIL 

Macbeth (Tragedy). Hollinshed. 
Julius Ccesar (Tragedy). Plutarch. 
Antony and Cleopatra (Tragedy). Plutarch. 
Con'olanus (Tragedy). Plutarch. 

Titus Andronicus (Tragedy). Probably an older play on tha 
same subject. 

ii. Authentic : — 

Henry V/., Part I. 1 Various old plays, among which The 

Part II. J- Contention between the famous Houses 

Part III. J of Tork and Lancaster. 

King John. Founded on an older play on the same subject. 
Richard II. The Chronicles of Hall, Fabian, and Hollinshed. 
Richard III. The Chronicles, and an older but very inferior 
play. 

^ '' ' * An old play of The Famous Victories of 

Part II. \ rr jr 

Henry V. J ''''''''''' 

Hejiry VIII. 
All these belong to the department of "Histories," or Historical 
dramas 

II. Fiction. 

Midsummer Nighfs Dream (Comedy). Chaucer's Knight" i 

Tale. 
Comedy of Errors (Comedy). The Mencechmi of Plautus. 
Taming of the Shrew (Comedy). An old English piece of the 

same name. 
Love's Labor's Lost (Comedy). Unknown ; probably an Italian 

play. 
Two Gefitlemen of Verona (Comedy). Exact origin unknown. 
Romeo and Juliet (Tragedy). Paj^nter's Palace of Pleasure. 
Merchant of Venice (Comedy). The Pccorone and the Gcsta 

Ro7najiorum. 
AlVs Well that Ends Well (Comedy). The Palace of Pleasure^ 

translated from Boccaccio. 
Much Ado about Nothing (Comedy). An episode of the Or- 
lando Furioso. 
As Tou Like It (Comedy). Lodge's Rosalynde, and the Coke's 

Tale of Gamclyn. 
Merry Wives of Windsor (Comedy). Exact origin unknown. 
Troilus and Cressida (Tragedy). Chaucer, and the Recuyell of 

Troye. 
Measure for Measure (Comedy). Cinthio's Hecatommithi, Dec. 

viii. Nov. 5. 
Winter's Tale (Comed}'). Greene's tale oi Dorastus and Faxvnia. 
Tijnon of Athens (Tragedy). Plutarch, Lucian, and Palace of 

Pleasure. 



A. D.' 1564-1616.] SIIAKSPEARE. li? 

Othello (Tragedy). Cinthio's Hecatommithi^ Dec. viii. Nov. •* 
Tempest (Comedy). Exact origin unknown, probably Italij^n. 
Txvelfth Night (Comedy). A novel by Bandello, imitated b» 

Belleforest. 
Pericles (Comedy). Twine's translation of the Gesta Re 

majioruju. 

§ 8. In the historical department of the above classification it wiL 
be seen that many plays were based upon preceding dramatic works 
treating of the same, or nearly the same subjects ; and in some few 
cases we possess the more ancient pieces themselves, exhibiting differ- 
ent degrees of imperfection and barbarism. We thus are in a position 
to compare the changes introduced by the consummate art of Shak- 
speare into the rude draughts of his theatrical predecessors, and to 
appreciate the wise economy he showed in retaining what suited his 
purpose, as well as the skill he exhibited in modifying and altering 
what did not. In one or two examples we have more than one edition 
of the same play in its different stages towards complete perfection 
under the hand of Shakspeare, instances of which may be cited ''n the 
cases of Hamlet and Lear. A careful and minute collation of such 
various editions furnishes us with precious materials for the investiga- 
tion of the most interesting and profitable problem that literary crit- 
icism can approach — the tracing of the different phases of elaboration 
through which every great work must pass. It is no mean privilege 
to be thus admitted, as it were, into the studio of the mighty painter, 
the laboratory of the mighty chemist — to mark the touches, sometimes 
bold, sometimes almost imperceptible in their delicacy, which trans- 
form the rugged sketch into the highly-finished picture, the apparently 
insignificant operations by which the rude ore is transformed into the 
consummate jewel. It is like being admitted into the penetralia of 
nature herself. The first impression which strikes the reader when 
he makes acquaintance with the Historical and Legendary category 
of Shakspeare's dramas, is the astonishing force and completeness with 
which the poet seized the general and salient peculiarities of the age 
and country which he undertook to reproduce. With the limited and 
imperfect scholarship that he probably possessed, this power is the 
more extraordinary, and shows that his vast mind must have proceeded 
in a marfner eminently synthetic; he first made his characters true to 
general and universal humanity, and then gave them the peculiar dis- 
tinguishing traits appropriate to their particular period and country. 
His persons are true portraits of Romans, for example, because they 
are first true portraits of men. Hi* great contemporary Jonson has 
shown a far more accurate and extensive knowledge of the details of 
Roman manners, ceremonies, and institutions ; but his personages, 
admirable as they are, are entirely deficient in that intense human real- 
ity which Shakspeare never fails to communicate to his dramatis j)er' 
soncB. The nature of the Historical Play, as it was understood by Shak- 
rpeare, admitted, and even required, the adoption of an extensive epoch 



144 SHAKSPEARE. [Chap. VII. 

as the subject, and a numerous crowd of agencs as the material, of 
such pieces ; and it is not too much to saj, that in all the personages 
so introduced, from the most prominent down to the most obscure, the 
reader may detect, if he takes the necessary pains, that every one had, 
in the mind of the author, a separate and distinct individuality, equally 
true to universal and to particular nature. Nay, in comparing such 
subjects as are drawn from diuerent periods in the history of his 
own or other nations, in ancient or modern times, we may remark the 
singular felicity with which this great creator has differentiated, so 
to sr.y, various phases in the character, social or political, of a people : 
thus the Romans in Coriolanus are very different from the Romans in 
Julius Ccesar or Antony and Cleopatra^ though equally true to general 
human nature and to the particular nature of the Roman people at the 
different epochs selected. The same extraordinary power of differenti- 
ating is equally perceptible in the English historical plays, as will plain- 
ly be seen on comparing King Joint, for example, with Henry IV. or 
Henry V. This power of throwing himself into a given epoch is, in 
Shakspeare, carried to a degree which cannot be justly qualified as 
anything short of superhuman. It is true that in these plays we find 
instances of gross anachronism in detail ; but these anachronisms 
never touch the essential truth of the delineation ; they are mere exter- 
nal excrescences, which can be instantly got rid of by the imaginative 
reader, and which, though they may excite a passing smile, do not 
aftect for a moment the sense of verisimilitude. Shakspeare may make 
a hero of the Trojan War quote Aristotle, or he may arm^ the Romans 
of Pharsalia with the Spanish rapier of the sixteenth century; but he 
never infects the language and sentiments of classical times with the 
conceits of gallant and courtly compliment that were current in the 
age of Louis XIV. In the scenes of private and domestic life which 
he has freely intermingled with the stirring and heroic episodes of war 
or policy, his knowledge of human nature enables him to paint with 
an equally firm and masterly touch the hero and the man. The deli- 
cate task of giving glimpses into the private life of great historical 
personages, which we find generally evaded in all other authors who 
have treated such subjects, is a proof of the supremacy of Shakspeare's 
genius. The same thing may be said of the boldness with which he 
has introduced comic incidents and characters amid the most lofty and 
solemn events of history, and as frequently and successfully in his Ro- 
man as in his English plays. In the two parts of Henry IV. the heroic 
and familiar are side by side, and the Prince's adventures with the 
inimitable Falstaff and his other pleasant but disreputable companions, 
are closely intermingled with the majestic march of the great historical 
events. This shows that Shakspeare, far from fearing, as an inferior 
artist would have done, the juxtaposition of the familiar and the sub- 
lime, the wildest and most fantastic comedy with the loftiest and 
gravest tragedj', not only made such apparently discordant elements 
mutually heighten and complete the general effect which he contem- 
plated, but in so doing teaches us that in human life the sublime and 



A. D. 1564-1616.] SHAKSPEARE. 145 

the ridiculous are side by side, and that the source of laughter is ' 
placed close by the fountain of tears. 

Even a cursory examination of these wonderful plays will supply us 
with another and not less remarkable evidence of Shakspeare's creative 
power. In them, though the chief characters may be historical, the 
action requires the introduction of a multitude of other personages ; 
and these are not always necessarily subordinate ones, which the poet 
must unavoidably have created out of his own observation. Now, 
in such cases the most difficult trial of a dramatic talent would be the 
callida junctura which should make the imaginary harmonize with 
the historical personages ; and this ordeal would be equally arduous 
whether the subject upon which it was exercised were persons or events. 
Walter Scott, with all his power of delineation, has not always been 
successful in hiding tho. Join i?ig on of the real with the imaginary. In 
Shakspeare, on the contrary', we never see a deficiency : indeed, whether 
by his consummate skill in realizing the ideal, or in idealizing the real, 
both the one and the other stand before us in the same solidity ; and it 
is not too much to say that to us his imaginary persons are as much 
real entities — nay, often far more so — than the authentic figures of 
history itself. Thus, to our intimate consciousness, Othello and Shylock 
are persons as real as Coriolanus and Wolsey. 

In the department of Shakspeare's works which we are now treating, 
as well as in the other category which we shall examine presently, 
there are unquestionably some pieces manifestly inferior to others. 
Thus among the English Histories the three plays upon the subject of 
Henry VI. bear evident marks of an inferior hand, and were in all 
probability older dramas which Shakspeare retouched and revivified 
here and there with some of his inimitable strokes of nature and poetic 
fancy. The last of the English historical plays, at least the latest in \^ 
the date of its action, is Henry VIII. This piece bears many traces of*^ 
having been in part composed by a different hand : in the diction, the V 
turn of thought, and in particular in the peculiar mechanism of the ^ 
versification, there is much to lead to the conclusion that Shakspeare, ^ 
in its composition, was associated with one other, if not more, poets. 
This kind of collaboration was an almost universal practice in that 
age ; and the circumstance that the play was written with a particular 
intention and contained very pointed and graceful compliments both to 
Elizabeth and her successor seem to indicate that it was composed with 
great rapidity, and that therefore Shakspeare was likely to have worked 
upon it in partnership with others. 

§ 9. But a general conception of the dramatic genius of Shakspeare 
must be founded upon an examination of all his pieces; and while the 
historical dramas show how he could free his mind from the trammels 
imposed by the necessity of adhering to real facts and persons, the 
romantic portion of his pieces, or those founded upon Fiction, will 
equally prove that the freedom of an ideal subject did not deprive him 
of the strictest fidelity to general nature. The characters that move 
through the action of these latter dramas exhibit the same consummate 
13 



146 SHAKSPEARE, [Chap. VII. 

appreciation of the general and the individual in humanity; and though 
he has occasionally stepped over the boundary of ordinary human 
nature, and has created a multitude of supernatural beings, fairies, 
spirits, witches, and other creatures of the imagination, even in these 
the severest consistency and the strictest verisimilitude never for a 
moment abandon him. They are always constantes sibi ; we know that 
such beings do not and cannot exist; but we irresistibly feel, in reading 
the scenes in which they appear, that if they did exist, they could not 
exist other than as he has painted them. The data being established, 
the consequences, to the most remote and trivial details, flow from them 
in a manner that no analysis can gainsay. In the mode of delineating 
passion and feeling Shakspeare proceeds differently from all other dra- 
matic authors. They, even the greatest among them, create a person- 
age by accumulating in it all such traits as their reading and observa- 
tion show to usually accompany the fundamental elements which go to 
form its constitution : and thus they all, more or less, fall into the 
error of making their personages embodiments of such and such a 
moral peculiarity. They give us admirable and complete monographies 
of ambition, of avarice, of hypocrisy, and the like. Moreover, in the 
expression of their feelings, whether tragic or comic, such characters 
almost universally describe the sensations they experience. This men 
and women in real life never do : nay, when under the influence of 
strong emotion or other powerful moral impression, we indicate to 
others what we feel, rather, and far more powerfully, by what we sup- 
press than by what we utter. In this respect the men and women of 
Shakspeare exactly resemble the men and women of real life, and not 
the men and women of the stage. Nor has he ever fallen into the 
common error of forgetting th^ infinite complexity of human charac- 
ter. If we analyze any one of the prominent personages of Shak- 
speare, though we may often at. first sight perceive in it the predomi- 
nance of some one quality or passion, on a nearer view we shall find 
that the complexity of its moral being goes on widening and deepening 
with every new attempt on our part to grasp or sound the whole extent 
of its individuality. Macaulay has excellently observed that it is easy 
to say, for example, that the primary characteristic of Shylock is re- 
vengefulness ; but that a closer insight shows a thousand other quali- 
ties in him, the mutual play and varying intensity of which go to com- 
pose the complex being that Shakspeare has drawn in the terrible Jew. 
Thus Othello is no mere impersonation of jealousy, nor Macbeth of 
ambition, nor Falstaff of selfish gayety, nor Timon of misanthropy, 
nor Imogene of wifely love : in each of these personages the more 
closely we analyze them the deeper and more multiform- will appear 
the infinite springs of action which make up their personality. Shak- 
speare has shown, in a manner that no one has either equalled or 
approached, how a given character will act under the stimulus of some 
overmastering passion ; but he has painted ambitious and revengeful 
men, not ambition and revenge in human form. Nothing is more 
childish than the superficial judgment which identifies the great crea- 



A. D. 1564-1616.] SHAKSPEARE. 147 

tions of Shakspeare with some prominent moral or intellectual charac- 
teristic. His conceptions are as multiform as those of nature herself; 
and as the physiologist knows that even in the plant or mollusk of 
apparently the simplest construction there are depths of organization 
which bid defiance to all attempts to fathom them, so in the characters 
of the great painter of humanity, there is a variety which grows more 
and more bewildering the more earnestly we strive to penetrate its 
mysteries. This wonderful power of conceiving complex character is 
at the bottom of another distinguishing peculiarity of our great poet; 
namely, the total absence in his works of any tendency to self- reproduc- 
tion. Possessing only the dramas of Shakspeare, it would be totally 
impossible for us to deduce any notion of what were the sympathies 
and tendencies of the author. He is absolutely impersonal ; or rather 
he is all persons in turn : for no poet ever possessed to a like degree 
the portentous power of successively identifying himself with a multi- 
tude of the most diverse individualities, and of identifying himself so 
completely that we cannot detect a trace of preference. Let us suppose 
a man capable of conceiving and delineating such a picture of jealousy 
as we have in the tragedy of Othello. Would not such a man be irre- 
sistibly impelled to do a second time what he had so admirably done 
the first.? But Shakspeare, when he has once thrown off such a char- 
acter as Othello, never recurs to it again. Othello disappears from the 
stage as completely as a real Othello would have done from the world, 
and leaves behind him no similar personage. True, Shakspeare has 
given us a number of other pictures of jealous men ; but their jealousy 
is as difierent from that of Othello as in real life the jealousy of one 
man is difierent from that of another. Leontes, Ford, Posthumus, are 
all equally jealous ; but how differently is the passion manifested in 
each of these ! In the female characters, too, what a wonderful range, 
what an inexhaustible variety! Perhaps in no class of his impersona- 
tions are the depth, the delicacy, and the extent of Shakspeare's creative 
power more visible than in his women : for we must not forget that in 
writing these exquisitely varied types of female character, he knew that 
they would be intrusted, in representation, to boys or young men — no 
female having acted on the stage till long after the age which witnessed 
such creations as Hermione, Lady Macbeth, Rosalind, or Juliet. We 
may conceive what a chill it must have been to the imagination of a 
poet to be conscious that a marvel of female delicacy, grandeur, or 
passion would be personated on the stage by a performer of the other 
sex, and that the author would feel what Shakspeare has so powerfully 
expressed in the language of his own Cleopatra : — 

" The quick comedians 
■Extemporary shall stage us : Antony 
Shall be brought drunken forth, and I shall see . 
Some squeaking Cleopatra boy my greatness." 

Surely the power of ideal creation has never undergone a severer or- 
deal. Shakspeare's triumph over this great practical difficulty is the more 



148 SIIAKSPEARE, [Chap. VII. 

surprising as there is, perhaps, no class of his personages more varied, 
more profound, and more exquisitely delicate than his female charac- 
ters, which possess a far higher tone of sentiment than can be found in 
the most beautiful conceptions of womanly qualities which even the 
greatest of his contemporaries — as Beaumont, Massinger, and Ford 
— have given to the drama. Some critics, indeed, have traced his 
superior refinement in this respect to the imitation of the pure and 
lofty feminine ideal which he found in the Arcadia of the illustrious 
Sidney and the graceful purity of the Faerie ^ueene. 

In the expression of strong emotion, as well as in the delineation of 
character, Shakspeare is superior to all other dramatists, superior to all 
other poets. He never finds it necessary, in order to produce the eflect 
he desires, to have recourse in the one case to violent or declamatory 
rhetoric, or in the other to unusual or abnormal combinations of quali- 
ties. In him we meet with no sentimental assassins, no moral mon- 
sters, — 

" Blessed with one virtue and a thousand crimes." 

Without overstepping the ordinary limits of human experience, he is 
always able to interest or to instruct us with the exhibition of general 
passions and feelings, manifesting themselves in the way we generally 
see them in the world. He is like the great painter of antiquity, who 
produced his ever-varying eflfects by the aid of four simple colors. In 
the expression, too, he uniformly draws, at least in his finest passages, 
his illustrations from the most simple and familiar objects, from the 
most ordinary scenes of life. When a great occasion presents itself, 
he ever shows himself equal to that occasion. There are, indeed, in 
his works many passages where he has allowed his taste for intellectual 
subtleties to get the better of his judgment, and where his passion for 
playing upon words — a passion which was the literary vice of his day, 
and the effects of which are traceable in the writings of Bacon as well 
as in his — is permitted to cool the enthusiasm excited by the situation 
or the feelings of the speaker. But this indulgence in conceits gen- 
erally disappears in the great culminating moments of intense passion : 
and while we are speaking of this defect with due critical severity, 
we must not forget that there are occasions when the intensest moral 
agitation is not incompatible with a morbid and feverish activity of the 
intellect, and that the most violent emotion sometimes finds a vent in 
the intellectual contortions of a conceit. Nevertheless, it cannot be 
denied that Shakspeare very often runs riot in the indulgence of this 
tendency, to the injury of the effect designed and in defiance of the 
most evident principles of good taste. His style is unquestionably a 
very difficult one in some respects ; and this obscurity is not to be at- 
tributed, except of course in some particular instances, to the corrupt 
state in which his writings have descended to us, and still less to the 
archaism or obsoleteness of his diction. Many of the great dramatists 
his contemporaries, for example Massinger and Ford, are in this 
respect as different from Shakspeare as if they had been separated 



A. D. 1564-1616.] SHAKSPEARE. 149 

from him hj two centuries of lime — their writings being as remarka- 
ble for the limpidity and clearness of expression as his are occasionally 
for its complexity. It is not therefoi'e to the remoteness of the period 
that we must ascribe this peculiarity. Indeed in this respect Shak- 
speare's language will present nearly as much difficulty to an English 
as to a foreign student. We must look for the cause of this in the 
enormously developed intellectual and imaginative faculty in the poet; 
leading him to make metaphor of the boldest kind the ordinary tissue 
of his style. The thoughts rise so fast under his pen, and successively 
generate others with such a portentous rapidity, that the reader requires 
almost as great an intellectual vivacity as the poet, in order to trace the 
leading idea through the labyrinth of subordinate illustration. In all 
figurative writing the metaphor, the image, is an ornament, something 
extraneous to the thought it is intended to illustrate, and may be 
detached from it, leaving the fundamental idea intact : in Shakspeare 
the metaphor is the very fabric of the thought itself and entirely insep- 
arable from it. His diction may be compared to some elaborate monu- 
ment of the finest Gothic architecture, in which the superficial glance 
loses itself in an inextricable maze of sculptural detail and fantastically 
fretted ornamentation, but where a close examination shows that every 
pinnacle, every buttress, every moulding is an essential member of the 
construction. This intimate union of the reason and the imagination 
is a peculiarity common to Shakspeare and Bacon, in whose writings 
the severest logic is expressed in the boldest metaphor, and the very 
titles of whose books and the very definitions of whose philosophical 
terms are frequently images of the most figjirative character. There is 
assuredly no poet, ancient or modern, from whose writings may be 
extracted such a nvnnber of profound and yet practical observations 
applicable to the common aflairs and interests of life; observations 
expressed with the simplicity of a casual remark, yet pi'egnant with the 
condensed wisdom of philosophy; exhibiting more than the acuteness 
of De Rochefoucauld, without his cynical contempt for humanity, and 
more than the practical good sense of Moliere, with a far wider and 
more universal applicability. In the picturing of abnormal and super- 
natural states of existence, as in the delineation of every phase of 
mental derangement, or the sentiments and actions of fantastic and 
supernatural beings, Shakspeare exhibits the same coherency and con- 
sistency in the midst of what at first sight appears altogether to trar- 
scend ordinary experience. Every grade of folly, from the verge ol 
idiotcy to the most fantastic eccentricitj', every shade of moral pertur- 
bation, from the jealous fury of Othello to the frenzy of Lear or the 
not less touching madness of Ophelia, is represented in his plays with 
a fidelity so complete that the most experienced physiologists have 
afnrmed that such intellectual disturbances may be studied in bis pages 
with as much profit as in the actual patients of a madhouse. 

§ 10, The non^dramatic works of Shakspeare consist of the two nar- 
rative poems, written in the then fashionable Italian stanza, entitled Venus 
and Adorns, and the RaJ)e of Lucrece, the volume of beautiful Sonnets 
13* 



150 SHAKSPEARE. [Chap. VII. 

whose internal signification has excited so much controversy, and a few 
lyrics, some of which appear to have good and others but indifferent 
claims to be attributed to the great poet. Venus and Adonis, which the 
author himself, in his dedication to the Earl of Southampton, calls " the 
first heir of his invention," was undoubtedly one of his earliest produc- 
tions, and though the date of its composition is not precisely known, was 
possibly written by Shakspeare before he left Stratford, at all events at 
the very outset of his poetical career. It is stamped with the strongest 
marks of youthful genius, exhibiting all the flush and voluptuous glow 
of a fervent imagination. The story is the common mythological epi- 
sode of the loves of Venus and the hunter ; and both in its form and 
substance, it must be regarded as an original attempt at a new kind of 
poetry, in which the extraordinary success of Shakspeare aftei-wards 
induced a multitude of other poets to follow his example. It ran 
through an unusual number of editions in a very short time, and was 
indeed one of the most successful literary ventures of the age. In the 
rich and somewhat sensual love-scenes in this poem, in the frequent 
inimitable touches of description which give earnest of Shakspeare's 
miraculous power of painting external nature, and in the delicious but 
somewhat efteminate melody of the verse, we see all the marks of 
youth, but it is the youth of a Shakspeare. The Rqpe of Lucrece, 
though less popular than its predecessor, a circumstance which may be_ 
attributed to the repulsive nature of the subject, is yet a poem of very 
great merit. The Sonnets of Shakspeare possess a peculiar interest, 
not only from their intrinsic beauty, but from the circumstance of their 
evidently containing carefullj^ veiled allusions to the personal feelings 
of their author, allusions which point to some deep disappointment in 
love and friendship suffered by the poet. They were first printed in 
1609, though, from allusions found in contemporary writings, many of 
them were composed previously. They are one hundred and fifty-four 
in number, and some are evidently addressed to a person of the male 
sex, while others are as plainly intended for a woman. The poet bit- 
terly complains of the treachery of the male, and the infidelity of the 
female object of his affection, while he speaks both of the one and of 
the other in the most ardent langua'ge of passionate yet melancholy 
devotion. Throughout the whole of these exquisite but painful compo- 
sitions there runs a deep undercurrent of sorrow, self-discontent, and 
wounded affection, which bears every mark of being the expression of 
a real sentiment. No clew, however, has as yet been discovered by 
which we may hope to trace the persons to whom these poems are 
addressed, or the painful events to which they allude. The volume 
was dedicated, on its first appearance, by the publisher, Thomas Thorpe, 
to " Mr. W. H.," who is qualified as the only begetter of these sonnets; 
and some hypotheses suppose that this mysterious " Mr. W. H." was 
no other than William Herbert, Earl of Pembroke, one of Shakspeare's 
most powerful patrons, and a man of great splendor and accomplish- 
ments. It is, however, difficult to suppose that a personage so high- 
placed could easily have interfered to destroy the happiness of the com- 



A. D. 1564-1616.] SIIAKSPEARE. 151 

paratively humble player and poet of the Globe, or, if he had, that a 
bookseller would have ventured to allude to him under so familiar a 
designation as " W. H." In fact the whole production is shrouded in 
mystery; and we must content ourselves with admiring the deep ten- 
derness, the melancholy grace, and the inimitable touches of poetical 
fancy and moral reflection which abound in these poems, without 
endeavoring to solve the enigma — unquestionably a painful and per- 
sonal one — involved in the circumstances under which they were com- 
posed. 



152 THE SHAKSPEARIAN DRAMATISTS. [Chap. VIIL 

CHAPTER VIII. 
THE SHAKSPEARIAN DRAMATISTS. 

J 1. Ben Jonson. His life. ^ 2. His tragedies and comedies. ^ 3. His masques 
and other works. ^ 4. Beaumont and Fletcher. § 5. Massinger. § 6. 
Ford. § 7. Webster. § 8. Chapman, Dekker, Middleton, Marstox, 
and other minor Dramatists. § 9. Shirley. § 10. Remarks on the Eliza- 
bethan drama. 

§ 1. The age of Elizabeth and James I. produced a galaxy of great 
dramatic poets, the like of whom, whether we regard the nature or the 
degree of excellence exhibited in their works, the world has never seen. 
In the general style of their writings, they bear a strong family resem- 
blance to Shakspeare ; and indeed many of the peculiar merits of their 
great prototj^pe may be found scattered among his various contem- 
poraries, and in some instances carried to a height little inferior to that 
found in his writings. Thus intensity of pathos hardly less touching 
than that of Shakspeare may be found in the dramas of Ford, gallant 
animation and dignity in the dialogues of Beaumont and Fletcher, deep 
tragic emotion in the sombre scenes of Webster, noble moral elevation 
in the. graceful plays of Massinger; but in Shakspeare, and in Shak- 
speare alone, do we see the consummate union of all the most opposite 
qualities of the poet, the observer, and the philosopher. 

The name which stands next to that of Shakspeare in the list of these 
illustrious dramatists is that of Ben Jonson (1573-1637), a vigorous 
and solid genius, built high with learning and knowledge of life, and 
whose numerous works, dramatic as well as other, possess an imposing 
and somewhat monumental weight. He was born in 1573, and was 
consequently nine years younger than Shakspeare. His career was full 
of strange vicissitudes. Though compelled by a step-father to follow 
the humble trade of a bricklayer, he succeeded in gratifying an intense 
thirst for learning. He passed some short time, probably with the 
assistance of a patron, at the University of Cambridge, and there, as 
well as after leaving college, continued to study with a diligence that 
certainly rendered him one of the most learned men of his age — an 
age fertile in learned men. He is known to have served some time as a 
soldier in the Low Countries, and to have distinguished himself by his 
courage in the field ; but his theatrical career seems to have begun 
when he was about twenty years of age, when we find him attached as 
an actor to one of the minor theatres, called the Curtain. His success 
as a performer is said to have been very small, arising most probably 
from want of grace and beauty of person ; and there is no reason to 
suppose that his theatrical career differed from the almost vmiversal 
type of the actor-dramatists of that age. While still a very young 



A. D. 1 573-1637.] BEN JONS ON. 153 

man he fought a duel with one of his fellow-actors, whom he had the 
misfortune to kill, receiving at the same time a severe wound ; and 
for this infringement of the law, which at that particular period was* 
punished with extreme se%e'-5t3S the poet was condemned to death, 
though afterwards pardoned. Among other vicissitudes of life, Jon- 
son is related to have twice changed his religion, having been con- 
verted bj a Jesuit to the Roman Catholic faith, and to have afterwards 
again returned to the bosom of his mother-Church, on which last 
occasion he is said, when receiving the Sacrament on his reconversion 
to have drunk out the whole chalice, in sign of the sincerity of his 
recantation. 

His first dramatic work, the Comedy of Every Man in his Humor, 
is assigned to the year 1596. This piece, the action and characters of 
which were originally Italian, failed in its first representation ; and 
there is a tradition, far from improbable in itself, that Shakspeare, who 
was then in the full blaze of his popularity, advised the young aspirant 
to make some changes in the piece and to transfer its action to Eng- 
land. Two years afterwards the comedy, with considerable alterations, 
was brought out a second time, at Shakspeare's theatre of the Globe, 
and then with triumphant success. One of the few parts which Shak- 
speare is known to have personated on the stage is that of Old Knowel, 
the jealous merchant, in this comedy. Thus was probably laid the 
foundation of that warm and solid friendship between Jonson and Shak- 
speare, which appears to have continued during their whole lives, and 
the existence of which is proved not only by man_y pleasant aiiecdotes 
recording the gay and witty social intercourse of the two great poets, 
but by the enthusiastic, and j^et discriminating, eulogy in which Jonson 
^ who was not a man to give light or unconsidered praise — has hon- 
ored the memory and described the genius of his friend. From the 
moment of this second representation of his comedy Ben Jonson's 
literary reputation was established ; and during the remainder of his 
very active career, though the success of particular pieces may have 
fluctuated, Jonson undoubtedly occupied a place at the very head of 
the dramatic authors of his day. His social and generous, though 
coarse and somewhat overbearing character, the extraordinary power 
and richness of his conversation, contributed to make him one of the 
most prominent figures in the literary society of that day. His "wit- 
combats " at the famous taverns of the Mermaid, the Devil, and the 
Falcon, have been commemorated in many anecdotes; and he even 
appears to have been regarded at last as a sort of intellectual poten- 
tate, much as his great namesake Samuel Johnson was afterwards, and 
to have conferred upon his favorites the title of his sons ; " sealing 
them," as he says in one of his epigrams, " of the tribe of Ben." 

His first comedy was followed in the succeeding year by Every Alan 
Out of his Humor, and his literary activity continued to be very 
great, for in 1603 he gave to the world his tragedy of Sejanus, and in 
1605 he appears to have had some share, with Chapman, Marston, 
Dekker, and other dramatists, in the piece of East-ward Hoe I a comed_y 



154 THE SHAKSPEARTAN DRAMATISTS. [Chap. VIII. 

which cp.lled down upon all connected with it a severe persecution from 
the Cou-rt, which was bitterly offended by certain satirical allusions to 
the favor then arxorded by King James to his Scottish countrymen. 
Jonson was involved in this persecution ; and there is a story that the 
guilty wits having been condemned to have their noses slit, Jonson 
generously refused to abandon his associates, and that his mother had 
prepared for herself and him " a strong and lusty poison," to enable 
him to escape the ignominy of such a disfigurement. With the frank 
and violent character of Jonson it was impossible that he could escape 
continual quarrels and disputes, so difficult to avoid in a literary career, 
and particularly in the dramatic profession. Thus we have notices of 
violent feuds between him and Dekker, Chapman, Marston, and others, 
as well as Inigo Jones, the Court architect and arranger of festivities 
and masques, whose favor seems to have given great umbrage to the 
proud and self-confident nature of old Ben. ISIany of these literary 
quarrels may be traced in the dramatic works of Jonson and his con- 
temporaries, who used the stage as a vehicle for mutual attack and 
recrimination. In rapid succession between 1603 and 1619 followed 
some of Jonson's finest works, Volpone, Epicene^ the Alchemist^ and the 
tragedy of Catiline. In the latter year he was appointed Laureate or 
Court poet, and was frequently employed in getting up those splendid 
and fantastic entertainments called masques, in which magnificence 
of scenery, decoration, and costume, ingenious, allegorical, and mjth- 
ological personages, exquisite music, dancing, and declamation were 
made tlie instruments for paying extravagant compliments to the king 
and the great personages of the Court, on occasion of any festivity at 
the palace or in the mansions of the great. These charming composi- 
tions, in which Jonson exhibited all the stores of his invention and all 
the resouixes of his vast and elegant scholarship, were represented 
sometimes by actors, but often by the ladies and gentlemen of the 
Court, and were performed, not in the public theatres, but in palaces 
and great houses, both in London and the country. Many of Jonson's 
later pieces were entirely unsuccessful, and in one of the last, the 
Nevj Inn, acted in 1630, the poet complains bitterly of the hostility and 
bad taste of the audience. Towards the end of his life Ben Jonson ap- 
pears to have fallen into poverty, aggravated by disappointment and ill 
health, the latter probably caused by his too great fondness for copious 
libations of sack. He died in 1637, in the twelfth year of the reign 
of Charles I., and was buried, it is said, in a vertical position, in 
the churchyard of Westminster, the stone over his grave having 
been inscrilDcd with the excellent and laconic words, " O rare Ben 
Jonson." 

§ 2. The dramatic as well as the other works of this great poet are 
BO numerous that I must content myself with a very cyrsory survey 
of them. They ai-e of various degrees of merit, ranging from an 
excellence not surpassed by any contemporary excepting Shakspeare, 
to the lowest point of laborious m.ediocrity. Two of them are trage- 
dies, the T^iz/Zt^/^^a^./i- and the Conspiracy of Catiline. The subjects 



A. D. 1573-1653-] BEN JONSOK 155 

of both these plajs are borrowed from the Roman historians, and the 
dialogue and action in both may be regarded as a mosaic of strikinj^ 
and brilliant extracts from the Latin literature, reproduced byjonson 
with such a consummate force and vigor that we maj^ call him a Roman 
author who composed in English. Nothing can exceed the minute ac- 
curacy with which all the details of the Roman manners, ceremonies, 
religion, and sentiments are reproduced; and yet the effect of the whole 
is singularly stiff and unpleasing, partly perhaps from the absence of 
pathos and tenderness which characterizes Jonson's mind, and partly 
from the unmanageable nature of the subjects, the hero in both cases 
being so odious that no art can secure for his fate the sympathy of the 
reader. Many of the scenes, however, particularly those of a declama- 
tory character, as the trial of Silius and Cremutius Cordus before the 
abject Senate, the appearance of^Tiberius, and the magnificent oration 
in which Petreius describes the defeat and death of Catiline, are of ex- 
traordinary pov/er and grandeur. Of comedies, properly so called, Jon- 
son composed fifteen, the best of which are incoxitQ?,ioh\y Every Alan in 
his Humor, Volpone, Epice7ie or the Silent Woman, and the Alchemist. 
The plots or intrigues of Jonson are far superior to those of the gener- 
ality of his contemporaries : he always constructed them himself, and 
with great care and skill. Those of Volpone and the Silent Woman for 
example, though some of the incidents are extravagant, are admirable 
for the constructive skill they display, and for the art with which each 
detail is made to contribute to the catastrophe. The general effect, 
however, of Jonson's plaj's, though abundantly satisfactory to the 
reason, is hard and defective to the taste. The character of his mind 
was eminently analytic; he dissected the vices, the fdllies, and the 
affectations of society, and presented them to the reader rather like 
anatomical preparations than like men and women. His observation 
was extensive and acute ; but his mind loved to dwell rather upon the 
eccentricities and monstrosities of human nature than upon those vini- 
versal features with which all can sympathize, as all possess them. His 
mind was singularly deficient in what is called humanity ; his point of 
view is invariably that of the satirist, and thus, as he fixed his attention 
chiefly upon what was abnormal, many of his most elaborately-draw.i 
portraits are a sort of dry, harsh, abstruse caricatures of absurdities 
which were peculiar to the manners and society of that day, and appear 
to us as strange and quaint as the pictures of our ancestors in their 
stiff and fantastic dresses. The satiric tendency of Jonson's mind, too, 
induced him to take his materials, both for intrigue and character, from 
odious or repulsive sources ; thus the subject of two of his finest pieces, 
Volpone and the Alchemist, turns entirely upon a series of ingenious 
cheats and rascalities ; all the persons, without exception, being either 
scoundrels or their dupes. Nevertheless, in spite of these peculiarities, 
the knowledge of character displayed by Jonson is so vast, the force 
and vigor of expression are so unbounded, he has poured forth into 
his dialogue such a wonderful wealth of illustration drawn from men 
as well as books, that his comedies form a studj eminently stiJ^siantial. 



156 THE SHAKSPEARIAN DRAMATISTS. [Chap. VIII. 

In some of them, as in Poetaster, Bartholomew Fair, and the Talc of 
a Tub, Jonson has attacked particular persons and parties, as Dekker in 
the first, the Puritans in the second, and Inigo Jones in the third; but 
these pieces can have but little interest for the modern reader. The 
tone of morality which prevails throughout Jonson's works is high 
and manlj, and he is particularly remarkable for the lofty standard he 
invariably claims for the social value of the poet, the dramatist, and 

\ the satirist. Though he has too often devoted his great powers to the 

'> delineation of those oddities and absurdities which were then called 

humors, and which may be defined as natural follies and weaknesses 

exaggerated by affectation, he has traced more than one truly comic 

^, personage, the interest of which must be permanent; thus his admirable 
//^ type of coward braggadocio in Bobadill will always deserve to occupy 

\i a place in the great gallery of human folly. The want of tenderness 
and delicacy which I have ascribed to Jonson will be especially perceived 
in the harsh and unamiable characters which he has given to his female 
persons. Without stamping him as a woman-hater, it may be said 
that there is hardly one female character in all his dramas which is 
represented in a graceful or attractive light, while a great many of them 
are absolutely repulsive from their coarseness and their vices. 

§ 3. It is singular that while Jonson in his plays should be distin- 
guished for that hardness and dryness which I have endeavored to 
point out, this same poet, in another large and beautiful category of 
his works, should be remarkable for the elegance and refinement of his 
invention and his style. In the Masques and Court E^itertainments 
which he composed for the amusement of the king and the great nobles, 
as well as in the charming fragment of a pastoral drama entitled The 
Sad Shepherd, Jonson appears quite another man. Everything that 
the richest and most delicate invention could supply, aided by extensive, 
elegant, and recondite reading, is lavished upon these courtly compli- 
ments, the gracefulness of which almost makes us forget their adulation^ 
and servility. This servility, it should be remarked, was the fashion > j 
of the times; and was carried quite as far towards the pedantic ancl^ 
imbecile James as it had been towards his great predecessor, Elizabeth. v^ 
Of such masques and entertainments, Jonson composed about thirty-five,% 
many of which exhibit a richness and playfulness of invention whicli 
have never been surpassed. These productions were, of course, generally> 
short, and depended in a great measure for their effect upon the scenes, 
machinery, costumes, dances, and songs, with which they were thickly 
interspersed. The magnificence sometimes displayed in these spectacles 
was extraordinary, and forms a striking contrast with the beggarly 
mise 671 settle of the regular theatres of those days. Among the most 
beautiful of these masques we may mention Paris Ajiniversary, the 
Masque of Oberon, and the Masque of Queens. In the dialogue of these 
slight pieces, as well as in the lyrics which are frequently introduced, 
we see how graceful and melodious could become the genius of this 
great poet, though generally attuned to the severer notes of the satiric 
nuise. Besides his dramatic works Jonson left a very large quantity of 



A. D. 1576-1625.] BEAUMONT AND FLETCUER. 157 

literary remains in prose and verse. The former portion contains 
many curious and valuable notes macie bj Jonson on books and men, 
among which are particularly interesting the references to Shakspeare 
and Bacon ; and the latter consists chiefly of epigrajtis written in the 
manner of Martial, and sometimes containing interesting notices of 
contemporary persons and things. All these are pregnant with wit, 
fancy, and solid learning, and confirm the idea which we derive from 
Jonson's dramas of the power, richness, and variety of his genius. 

§ 4, Superior to Ben Jonson in variety and animation, though 
hardly equal to him in solidity of knowledge, were the two illustrious 
dramatists who worked together with so intimate a union that it is 
impossible, in the works composed before their friendship was dissolved 
by death, to separate their contributions. These were Beaumont (1586- 
1615) and Fletcher (1576-1625), both men of a higher social status, 
by birth and by education, than the generality of the dramatists of this 
splendid epoch; forBeaum.ont was of noble family, and the son of a judge, 
while Fletcher was son to Bishop Fletcher, an ecclesiastic, however, of 
no very enviable reputation, in the reign of Elizabeth. John Fletcher 
was born in 1576; Thomas Beaumont ten yotirs later, but he died early, 
in 1615, at the age of thirty, and his friend survived him ten j^ears, and 
was one of the victims to the plague in 1625. Concerning the details 
of their lives and characters we possess but vague and scanty informa- 
tion ; it is, however, evident from their works that they had both re- 
ceived a learned education. They were accomplished men, possessing 
a degree of scholarship far inferior, perhaps, in depth and accuracy to 
that of Jonson, but amply sufficient to furnish their writings with rich 
allusions and abundant ornaments. The dramatic works of these brilliant 
fellow-laborers, in spite of the very short existence of the one, and the 
not very long life of the other, are extraordinary not only for theii 
excellence and variety, but also for their number, their collected dramas 
— which were not printed in a complete form till 1647 — amounting to 
fifty-two. Some of these, it is certain, were acted before Beaumont's 
death ; and of the remainder many are attributed to Fletcher alone, and 
this probably with justice, though it is impossible to know how far 
Fletcher, in those works which are to be ascribed to the period succeed- 
ing that event, may have profited by the unfinished sketches thrown 
off by them both in partnership. The common tradition relates that 
Beaumont possessed more of the elevated, sublime, and tragic genius, 
while Fletcher was rather distinguished by gayety and comic humor; 
but so intimately interwoven is the glory of these two excellent poets, 
that neither in their names nor in their writings does biography or 
criticism ever separate them. Such imperfect notices, however, as have 
come down to our time upon this subject I will introduce here, as they 
will assist the memory in judging of such a multiplicity of pieces, by 
dividing them into comparatively manageable groups. Dryden, who has 
spoken with just enthusiasm of the works of these great dramatists, to 
whom he himself owed so much, has asserted that the first successful 
piece they placed upon the stage was the charming romantic drama of 

14 



158 THE SIIAKSPEARIAN DRAMATISTS. [Chap. VI 11. 

Philaster^ though thej had composed several before this production 
raised their names to a high pitch of popularity. Among the pieces 
performed anterior to 1615 may be mentioned, besides Philaster, the 
Maid's Tragedy^ A King and No King, the Laws of Candy, all of a 
lofty or tragic character; while among the dramas belonging to the 
same early period may be specified the following, as exhibiting the 
comic genius of the two illustrious fellow-laborers : the Wo7nan-hater, 
the Knight of the Burning Pestle (one of their richest and most popular 
extravaganzas), the Ho7iest Man's Fortune., the Captain, and the CoX' 
cotnb. Of those attributed, with more or less show of probabilitj', to 
Fletcher alone, it will be seen that a large proportion possess a charac- 
ter in which the comic tone is predominant. I will specify the follow- 
ing : the excellent comedies of the Chances, the Spa7iish Curate, Beg' 
gars' Bush, SiVid Rtde a Wife and Have a Wife. But a mere enumera- 
tion of the principal dramas of these animated and prolific playwrights 
will be found tiresome and unsatisfactory. I will therefore, after mak- 
ing a few general remarks on the genius and manner of Beaumont and 
Fletcher, note such peculiarities in their principal plays as my limited 
space will permit.\The first quality which strikes the reader in making 
acquaintance with these poets is the singularly airy, free, and animated 
manner in which they exhibit incident, sentiment, and action. They 
evidently ^vl■ote with great ease and rapidity; and their productions, 
though occasionally oftending against the rules of good taste and pro- 
priety, are never deficient in the tone of good society. Their dialogue, 
far less crowded with thought than that of Shakspeare, and less bur- 
dened with scholar-like allusion than that of Jonson, is singularly 
vivacious and flowing. Their style, though not altogether free from 
afi'ectation, is wonderfully limpid, and will generally be found much 
easier to understand at the first glance than that of Shakspeare — a 
clearness which arises from less complexity in the ideas. They often 
attain, in their more poetical and declamatory passages, a high eleva- 
tion both of tragic and romantic eloquence. In the delineation of 
character and passion they are inferior to the great artist with whom 
they have not seldom ventured to measure their strength ; and if ever 
they have deserved the high honor of being compared for a moment 
with Shakspeare, it must be remembered that we must select, as the 
subject of such comparison, not the deeper and vaster creations of the 
great master's genius, — 

" For in that circle none durst walk but he," — 

not, in short, such works as Ha^nlet, Lear, Othello, but rather what 
may be called his secondary pieces, such as Much Ado about Nothing, 
Measure for Measure, or the Tempest — works in which the graceful, 
fantastic, and romantic elements predominate. In this department 
Beaimiont and Fletcher are no unworthy rivals to the greatest of 
dramatists. They possess high comic powers in the delineation of 
violently farcical and extravagant characters. Their portraiture of 
bragging cowardice in Bessus is one of the finest and completest 



I 



A. D. 1576-1625.] BEAUMONT AND FLETCUER, 159 

delineations which the stage has given ; while in such quaint and out- 
rageously ludicrous impersonations as those of Lazarillo, the hungry 
courtier who is in vain pursuit of the "umbrana's head," which is the 
object of his idolatry, they have touched the very brink to which 
humorous extravagance can be carried. Their plots, like those of 
Shakspeare, are often carelessly constructed and improbable in inci- 
dent; but the curiosity of the reader is always kept alive by striking 
situations and amusing turns of fortune. Their materials are similar 
to those which the romantic dramatists of that age generally employed 
— Italian and French novels, and sometimes legendary or authentic 
history. It should be remarked, however, that they have never once 
attempted, like Shakspeare, the historical drama, founded upon the 
annals of their own country, though they have freely used materials 
derived from Roman chronicles — as in their tragedy of the False One., 
in which they seem to have intended to try their strength against 
jf^ulius Ccesar ; and from the legendary history of the middle ages, 
as in Rollo, Thierry a?id Theodoret., and other pieces. They are sin- 
gularly happy in the delineation of noble and chivalrous feeling, the 
love and friendship of young and gallant souls ; and their numerous 
portraits of valiant veterans may be pronounced unequalled. As exam- 
ples of the former I may cite the personages of Philaster, of Arbaces, 
of Palamon and Arcite, of Areas in the Loyal Subject., and, above all, 
of Caratach in the tragedy of Bonduca. They possess the art of ren- 
dering a character vicious, and even criminal, without making it for- 
feit all claims to our sympathy; and thus exhibit a true sense of 
humanit3% A striking example of this is the erring but generous hero 
of A King atid No King. Their pathos, though frequently exhibited, 
is rather tender than deep : among the most striking instances of this 
I may refer to the Maid's Tragedy., one of their most admired and elab- 
orate works. The grief of Aspasia and the despair of Evadne are 
worked up to a high pitch of tragic emotion. In the Two Noble Kins- 
men, the subject of which is borrowed from the Knigkfs Tale of Chau- 
cer, the dignity of chivalric friendship is portraj^ed with the highest 
and most heroic spirit. In this play the scenes exhibiting the love and 
madness of the Gaoler's Daughter show an evident imitation of the 
character of Ophelia ; and there can be no higher praise to Beaumont 
and Fletcher than to confess that they come out of the contest beaten 
indeed, but not disgraced. Excellent too are they in pictures of simple 
tenderness and sorrow : there are few things in dramatic literature more 
pathetic than the character and death of the little heroic Prince Hengo 
in the tragedy of Botiduca. But it is perhaps in their pieces of mixed 
sentiment, containing comic matter intermingled with romantic and 
elevated incidents, that Beaumont and Fletcher's genius shines out in 
its full effulgence. It is on such occasions that we see them rise with- 
out effort and sink without meanness. Perhaps no better examples of 
this — the most charming — phase of their peculiar talent can be select- 
td than the comedies of the Elder Brother, Rule a Wife and Have a 
Wife, Beggars' Busk, and the Sj>anis/i Curate. In the third-mentioned 



16a THE SHAKSPEARIAN DRAMATISTS. [Chap. VIII. 

piece the romantic and the farcical intrigues are combined in a most 
masterly manner, Avhile in the first and second the force of innate worth 
and courage is made to shine out brilliantly amid the most apparently 
adverse circumstances. In the more violently farcical inti-igues and 
characters, such as are to be found in the Little French La-ojyey, the 
IVomati-kater, the Humorous Lteutefiant, the Scornful Lady, Wit at 
Several Weapons, and the like, we willingly forget the eccentricity, or 
even absurdity, of the idea, in consideration of the inexhaustible series 
of laughable extravagancies in which it is made to develop itself. Such 
extravagancies are very different from the dry, persevering, analytical 
method in which Jonson works out to its very last dregs the exhibition 
of one of those " humors " which he so delighted to portray — a pro- 
cess which may almost be called scientific, like the destructive distilla- 
tion of the chemist, leaving nothing behind but a caput juortuum. The 
fools and grotesques of Beaumont and Fletcher are "lively, audible, 
and full of vent; " and the authors seem to enjoy the amusement of 
heaping up absurdity upon absurdity, out of the very abundance of 
their humorous conception. The language in which the poet clothes 
their droll extravagancies is often highly figurative, full of imagery, 
and of a rich and generous music; sometimes the simple change of a 
few words will transform one of these passages of ludicrous and j-et 
picturesque exaggeration into a noble outburst of serious poetry. 
Some of the pieces of Beaumont and Fletcher furnish us with a store 
of curious antiquarian and literary materials : thus the excellent roman- 
tic play of Beggars' Bush contains, in the humorous scenes where the 
"mumping" fraternity is introduced, valuable materials illustrating 
that singular subject the sla?ig dialect, or the professional jargon of 
thieves, beggars, and such like offscourings of society ; and it is curious 
to see how long much of this argot has been in existence, and how 
slight are the changes it has undergone. In the same way the fantastic 
extravaganza of the Kfiight of the Burning Pestle is an absolute store- 
house preserving a multitude of popular chivalric legends and frag- 
ments, sometimes beautiful and always interesting, of ancient English 
ballad poetry'. In a good many passages of Fletcher we meet with 
evident parodies or caricatures of scenes and speeches of other drama- 
tists, and particularly of Shakspeare, in which latter case the interest 
of such passages is of course very high ; but it must be remembered 
that such caricatures or parodies are marked by a playful spirit, and 
bear no trace of malignity or envy. Examples of this will be found in 
the play I have just mentioned, in the droll, pathetic speech on the 
installation of Clause as King of the Gypsies, an evident and good- 
natured jest at Cranmer's speech in the last scene of Henry VIII. 
Many others might be adduced. The pastoral drama of the Faithful 
Shepherdess is unquestionably one of the most exquisite combinations 
of delicate and tender sentiment with description of nature and Ij'rical 
music that the English or any other literature can boast. Originally 
imitated from the Italian, this mixture of the eclogue and the drama forms 
a peculiar subdivision of poetry. Though the characters, sentiments, 



A. D. 1584-1640.] MASSINGER. 161 

language, and incidents have little relation to real life, the charm of 
such idyllic compositions, from the days of Theocritus to those of 
Guarini and Tasso, hag always been felt; and the refined ideal and 
half-mythologic beauty of the " fabled life" of Tempe seems to gratify 
that craving of the imagination which makes us all hunger after some- 
thing purer, sweeter, and more innocent than the atmosphere of our 
ordinary " working-day world. "^ The pictures of nature which crowd 
this exquisite Arcadian drama have never been surpassed for their truth, 
their delicac3\ and the melody of their expression ; and it is not the 
least glory of Beaumont and Fletcher that in this exquisite poem they 
are the victorious rivals of Ben Jonson, whose delicious fragment of the 
Sad She;pherd w2iQ undovibtedly suggested by the drama I am speaking 
of; while Fletcher also furnished to Milton the first prototype of one 
of the most inimitable of his works — the pastoral drama of Comus. ■ -■ 

§ 5. Of the personal history of Philip Massinger (1584-1640) little 
is known. This excellent poet was born in 1584, and died, apparently 
\Q,ry poor, in 1640. His birth was that of a gentleman, his education 
good, and even learned ; for though his stay in the University of Ox- 
ford, which he entered in 1602, was not longer than two years, his 
works prove, by the uniform elegance and refined dignity of their dic- 
tion, and by the peculiar fondness with which he dwells on classical 
allusions, that he v/as intimately penetrated with the finest essence of 
the great classical writers of antiquity. His theatrical life, extending 
from 1604 to his death, appears to have been an uninterrupted succes- 
sion of struggle, disappointment, and distress ; and we possess one 
touching document proving how deep and general was that distress in 
the dramatic profession of the time. It is a letter written to Henslowe, 
the manager of the Globe Theatre, in the joint names of Massinger, 
Field, and Daborne, all poets of considerable popularity, imploring the 
loan of an insignificant sum to liberate them from a debtor's prison. Like 
most of his fellow-dramatists, Massinger frequently wrote in partner- 
ship with other playwrights, the names of Dekker, Field, Rowley, 
Middleton, and others being often foimd in conjunction with his. We 
possess the titles of about thirty-seven plays either entirely or partially 
written by Massinger, of which number, however, only eighteen are 
now extant, the remainder having been lost or destroyed. These works 
are tragedies, comedies, and romantic dramas partaking of both char- 
acters. The finest of them are the following : the Fatal Dowry, the 
Unnatural Combat, the Rotnan Actor, and the Duke of Milan, in the 
first category ; the Bondman, the Maid of Honor, and the Picture, in 
the third ; and the Old Laxv and A New Way to Pay Old Debts in the 
second. The qualities which distinguish this noble writer are an 
extraordinary dignity and elevation of moral sentiment, a singular 
power of delineating the soirows of pure and lofty minds exposed to 
unmerited suffering, cast down but not humiliated by misfortune. In 
these lofty delineations it is impossible not to trace the reflection of 
Massinger's own high but melancholy spirit. Female purity and devo- 
tion he has painted with great skill ; and his plays exhibit many scenes 
14* 



162 THE SHAKSPEARIAN DRAMATISTS. [Chap. VIII. 

in which he has ventured to sound the mysteries of the deepest pas- 
sions, as in the Fatal Do^ury, and the Duke of Milan, the subject of 
the latter having some resemblance with the terrible storj of Mariamne. 
It was unfortunately indispensable, in order to* please the mixed audi- 
ences of those days, that comic and farcical scenes should be introduced 
in every piece; and for comedy and pleasantry Massinger had no apti- 
tude. This portion of his works is in every case contemptible for 
stupid buffoonery, as well as odious for loathsome indecency ; and the 
coarseness and obscenity of such passages forms so painful a contrast 
■with the general elegance and purity of Massinger's tone and language 
that w'e are driven to the supposition of his having had recourse to 
other hands to supply this obnoxious matter in obedience to the popular 
taste. Massinger's style and versification are singularly sweet and 
noble. No writer of that daj- is so free from archaisms and obscurities ; 
and perhaps there is none in whom more constantly appear all the force, 
harmony, and dignity of which the English language is susceptible. 
From many passages we may draw the conclusion that Massinger was a 
fervent Catholic. The Virgin Alartyr'is indeed a Catholic mystery; and 
in many plays — as, for example, the Renegado — he has attributed to 
Romanist confessors, and even to the then unpopular Jesuits, the most 
amiable and Christian virtues. If we desire to characterize Massinger 
in one sentence, we may say that dignity, tenderness, and grace are 
the qualities in which he excels. ""* 

§ 6. If Massinger, among the Elizabethan dramatists, be peculiarly 
the poet of moral dignity and tenderness, John Ford (1586-1639) must 
be called the great painter of unhappy love. This passion, viewed 
under all its aspects, has furnished the almost exclusive subject matter 
of his plays. He was born in 1586, and died in 1639; ^^^ does not 
appear to have been a professional writer, but to have followed the 
employment of the law. He began his dramatic career by joining with 
Dekker in the production of the touching tragedy of the Witch of Ed- 
monton, in which popular superstitions are skilfully combined with a 
deeply-touching story of love and treachery; and the works attributed 
to him are not numerous..^ Besides the above piece he wrote the trage- 
dies of the Brother and Sister, the Broken Heart (beyond all com- 
parison his most powerful work, a graceful historical drama on the 
subject of Perkin Warbeck), and the following romantic or tragi-comic 
pieces : the Lover'' s Melaticholy, Love's Sacrifice, the Fancies, Chaste 
and Noble, and the Ladfs Trial. His personal character, if we may 
judge from slight allusions found in contemporary writings, seems 
to have been sombre and retiring; and in his works sweetness and n^ 
pathos are carried to a higher pitch than in any other dramatist. In* j 
the terrible play of the Brother and Sister the subject is love of the^ 
most unnatural and criminal kind ; and yet Ford fails not to render his"^ 
chief personages, however we may deplore and even abhor their crime, 
objects of our sympathy and pity. In the Broken Heart wo, have in the 
noble Penthea, in Orgilus, Ithocles, and Calantha, four phases of un- 
happy passion ; and in the scenes between Penthea and her cruel but 



A. D. 1586-1639.] FORD. WEBSTER. 163 

repentant brother, between Penthea and the Princesfj (in which the 
dying victim makes her will in such fantastic but deeply-touching 
terms), and last of all in the tremendous accumulation of moral suf- 
fering with which the piece concludes, we cannot but recognize in Ford 
r. master of dramatic effect. His lyre has but few tones, but his music 
makes up in intensity for what it wants in variety ; and at present we 
can hardly understand how any audience could ever have borne the 
harrowing up of their sensibilities by such repeated strokes of pathos. 
Ford, like the other great dramatists of that era of giants, never shrank 
from dealing with the darkest, the most mysterious enigmas of our 
moral nature. His verse and dialogue are even somewhat monotonous 
in their sweet and plaintive melody, and are marked by a great richness 
of classical allusion. His comic scenes are even more worthless and 
offensive than those of Massinger. One proof of the consummate 
mastery which Ford possessed over the whole gamut of love-sentiment 
is his skill in making attractive the characters of unsuccessful suitors, 
in proof of which may be cited Orgilus and the noble Malfato. 

§ 7. But perhaps the most powerful and original genius among the 
Shakspearian dramatists of the second order is John Webster. His 
terrible and funereal Muse was Death ; his wild imagination revelled in 
images and sentiments which bi-eathe, as it were, the odor of the char- 
nel : his plays are full of pictures recalling with fantastic variety all 
associations of the weakness and futility of human hopes and interests, 
and dark questionings of our future destinies. His literary physiog- 
nomy has something of that dark, bitter, and woful expression which 
makes us thrill in the portraits of Dante. The number of his known < 
works is very small : the most celebrated among them is the tragedy of 
the Duchess of Ma If y (1623) ; but others are not inferior to that strange 
piece in intensity of feeling and savage grimness of plot and treat- 
ment. Besides the above we possess Guise, or the Massacre of France, 
in which the St. Barthelemy is, of course, the main action, the Devils 
Lavj Case, the White Devil, founded on the crimes and sufferings of 
Vittoria Corombona, Afpius and Virginia ; and we thus see that in the 
majority of his subjects he worked by preference on themes Avhich 
offered a congenial field for his portraiture of the darker passions and 
of the moral tortures of their victims. In selecting such revolting 
themes as abounded in the black annals of medijEval Italy, Webster 
followed the peculiar bent of his great and morbid genius ; in the treat- 
ment of these subjects we find a strange mixture of the horrible with 
the pathetic. In his language there is an extraordinary union of com- 
plexity and simplicity : he loves to draw his illustrations not only from 
*' skulls, and graves, and epitaphs," but also from the most attractive 
and picturesque objects in nature, and his occasional intermingling of 
the deepest and most innocent emotion and of the most exquisite 
touches of natural beauty produces the effect of the daisy springing 
up amid the festering mould of a graveyard. Like many of his con- 
temporaries, he knew the secret of expressing the highest passion 
through the most familiar images ; and the dirges and funeral songs 



164 THE SHAESPEARIAN DRA3IATISTS. [Chap. VIII. 

which he has frequently introduced into his pieces possess, as Charles 
Lamb eloquently expresses it, that intensity of feeling which seems to 
resolve itself into the very elements they contemplate. His dramas 
are generally composed in mingled prose and verse; and it is possible 
that he may have had a share in the production of many other pieces 
besides those I have enumerated above. 

§ 8. As the dramatic form was the predominant tj'pe of popular 
literature at this splendid period, the student must expect to be bewil- 
dered hy the great though subordinate glory of a multitude of minor 
lights of the theatrical heaven, whose genius our space will enable us 
to analyze but in a very rapid and cursory manner. The works of 
these playwrights, each of whom has, when closely examined, his 
peculiar traits, have, however, such a strong family resemblance both 
in their merits and defects, that this cursory appreciation will not lead 
the reader into any considerable error; one star of the bright constel- 
lation may somewhat differ from another in glory, but the general 
character and composition of their rays are the same. Chapman, Dek- 
ker, Middleton, and Marston are all remarkable for their fertility and 
luxuriance. George Chapman, who has been previously mentioned 
as the translator of Homer (p. 85), is, however, more admirable for 
his lofty, classical spirit, and for the power with which he communi- 
cated the rich coloring of romantic poetry to the forms borrowed by 
his learning from Greek legend and history. Thomas Dekker, one 
of the most inexhaustible of the literary workers of his age, though he 
generally appears as a fellow-laborer with other dramatists, yet in the 
few pieces attributed to his unassisted pen shows great elegance of 
language and deep tenderness of sentiment. Thomas Middleton is 
admired for a certain wild and fantastic fancy which delights in por- 
traying scenes of witchcraft and supernatural agencj^ John ISIarston, 
on the contrary, deserves applause less by a purely dramatic quality of 
genius than by a lofty and satiric tone of invective in which he lashes 
the vices and follies of mankind, and in particular the neglect of learn- 
ing. Nor can he who would make acquaintance with the dramatic 
wealth of this marvellous age pass without attention tl>e works of 
Taylor, Tourneur, Rowley, Broome, and Thomas Heywood. Tourneur 
has some resemblance, in the sombre and gloomy tone of his works, 
to the terrible genius of Webster, while Broome is remarkable for the 
immense number of pieces in whose composition he had a greater or 
less share; an observation which may also be applied to Heywood. 
This latter poet must not be confounded with his namesake John, who 
was one of the earliest dramatic authors, and flourished in the reigns 
of Henry VIII. and Mary (see p. 112). Thomas Heywood exhibits a 
graceful fancj', and one of his plays, A Wofnan Killed 'with Ki?idness, 
is among the most touching of the period. Broome was originally 
Ben Jonson's domestic servant, but afterwards attained considerable 
success upon the stage. 

§ 9. The dramatic era of Elizabeth and James closes with James 
Shirley (1594-1666), whose comedies, though in many respects bear- 



A. D. 1642.] SIIIRLEY. 165 

ing the same general character as the works of his great predecessors, 
gtill seem the earnest of a new period. He excels in the delineation of 
gay and fashionable society, and his dramas are more laudable for ease, 
nature, and animation than for profound tracings of human nature, 01 
for vivid portraiture of character. He passed through the whole of the 
Civil War, the Commonwealth, and the Revolution, and is the link 
which connects the great dramatic school of Shakspeare with the verj 
different form of the drama which revived at the Restoration in 1660. 
In proportion as the Puritan party grew in influence and acrimony, in 
precisely equal degree grew the hostility to the theatre; and at last, 
when fanaticism was rampant, the theatre was formally and legally 
suppressed, the play-houses were pulled down by bigoted mobs of citi- 
zens and soldiers, and the performance of plays, nay, the simple wit- 
nessing of theatrical representations, made a penal offence. This took 
place September 2, 1642, and the dramatic profession may be regarded as 
remaining under the frown of government during about fourteen years 
from that date, when the theatre was revived, but revived, as we shall 
afterwards see, under a completely different form, and with totally 
different tendencies, moral as well as literary. Of the nature and 
causes of this dramatic revolution, not less profound than the great 
political and social revolution of which it was a symptom and a result, 
I shall speak in another place. 

§ 10. The Elizabethan drama is the most wonderful and majestic 
outburst of genius that any age has yet seen. It is characterized by 
marked peculiarities ; an intense richness and fertility of imagination, 
such as was natural in an age when the stores of classical antiquity 
were suddenly thrown open to the popular mind ; and this richness and 
splendor of fancy are combined with the greatest force and vigor of 
familiar expression. We have an intimate union of the common and 
the refined, the boldest flights of fancy and the most scrupulous fidelity 
to actual reality. The great object of these dramatists being to pro- 
duce intense impressions upon a miscellaneous audience, they sacri- 
ficed everything to strength and nature. The circumstance that most 
of these writers were actors tended to give their productions the pecu- 
liar tone they exhibit : to this we must attribute some of their gravest 
defects as well as many of their most inimitable beauties — their occa- 
sional coarseness, exaggeration, and buffoonery, as well as that instinc- 
tive knowledge of efect which never abandons them. But besides 
being actors, they were, almost without exception, men of educated 
and cultivated minds ; and thus their writings never fail to show a 
peculiar aroma of style and language, which is perceptible even in the 
least fragment of their dialogue. They were also men, men of strong 
passions and often of irregular lives ; and what they felt strongly, and 
what they had seen in their wild lives, they boldly transferred to their 
writings ; which thus reflect not only the faithful images of human 
character and passion under every conceivable condition, not only the 
strongest as well as the most delicate coloring of fancy and imagina- 
tion, but the profoundest and simplest precepts derived from the prac- 



166 



NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. [Chap. VIIL 



tical experience of life. It should never be forgotten that thej all 
resemble Shakspeare in the general texture of their language and the 
prevailing principles of their mode of dramatic treatment, and only 
differ from him in the degree to which they possess separately those, 
high and varied qualities w^hich he alone of all human beings carried 
to an almost superhuman degree of intensity. 



NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 



OTHER DRAIMATISTS. 

AKTHONY Munpay (1553-1033) was said by 
Meres to be the "best plotter" among the comic 
poets. Fourteen plays were written either partly or 
wholly by him. The first of importance was Val- 
entine and Orson, published in 1503. Drayton and 
others assisted him in Sir John OMcastle, which 
was referred by some to Shakspeare. In 1601 lie 
published Robert Earl of Huntingdon's Downfall, 
and Robert Earl of Huntingdon's Death, in the last 
of which he was assisted by Chettle. His writings 
extended over the period 1580-1621. He died August 
10, 1033, and is styled on his monument in St. 
Stephen's, Colcmau Street, " citizen and draper of 
London." 

Henut Chettle was a most industrious writer 
of plays. Thirty-eight are said to bear an impress 
from his hand. With Ilaughton and Dekker he 
produced Patient Grissil in 1003. According to Mr. 
Collier he wrote for the stage before 1592. Three 
only of his plays have been preserved. He wrote 
too largely to produce works of more than passing 
interest 

Geoege Cooke produced Green's Tu qvoque in 
1599, and was the author of fifty epigrams. 

TnOMAS Nabbes wrote in the reign of Charles I. 
A third-rate poet, but original. None of his dra/- 
matic pieces are extant, tho chief of which were 



Microcosmus, Spring's Glory, Bride. Charlei the 
First, a tragedj', and Swetnam, a comedy, are 
proved not to be his. Nabbes was secretary to a me 
noble or prelate near Worcester. He also wrote a 
continuation of Knolles's History of the Turks. 

Thomas Randolph (180.5-1634), bom near 
Daventry. A scholar and poet of some worth, but 
whose pieces have sunk into an obscurity ill de- 
served. He studied at Cambridge, and through too 
great excess shortened his life, and died at the early 
age of twenty-nine. His chief plays were The 
Muses' Looking- Glass, and The Jealous Lovers. 

Nathaniel Field, in the reigns of James I. 
and Charles I., wrote A Woman 's a Weathercock, 
1012; Amends for Ladies, 1618. 

John Day wrote between 1602 and 1654. Studied 
at Caius College, Cambridge, was associated with 
Rowley, Dekker, Chettle, and Marlowe, and is said 
to have been the subject of the satirical lines on the 
flight of Day. His chief works were Bristol Tra- 
gedy, 1602, Law Tricks, 1608, and the Blind Beggar 
of Bethnal Green, 1659. 

Henky Glapthobxe lived in the reign of 
Charles I. Winstanley calls him "one of the 
chiefest dramatic poets of that age." There is much 
ease and elegance in his verse, but little force and 
passion. His plays numbered nine, five of which 
are preserved. Albertua Wallenstein, 1634, Th» 
Hollander, I&IO, &c. 



Chap. IX.] THE SO-GALLED 3IETA PHYSICAL POETS. 167 

CHAPTER IX. 

THE SO-CALLED METAPHYSICAL POETS. A. D. i6oo-i7oa 

§ 1. Characteristics of the so-called metaphysical poets. § 2. Wither and 
QtJARLES. § 3. Herbert and Crashaw. § 4. Herrick, Suckling, and 
Lovelace. § 5. Browne and Habington. § 6. Waller. § 7. Davenant 
and Denham. § 8. Cowley. 

§ 1. The seventeenth century is one of the most momentous in Eng- 
lish history. A large portion of it is occupied by an immense fermen- 
tation, political and religious, through which were worked out many of 
those institutions to which the country owes its grandeur and its hap- 
piness. The Civil War, the Commonwealth, the Protectorate, and the 
Restoration, fill up the space extending from 1630 to 1660, while its 
termination was signalized by another revolution, which, though peace- 
ful and bloodless, was destined to exert a perhaps even more beneficial 
influence on the future fortunes of the country. In its literary aspect 
this agitated epoch, though not marked by that marvellous outburst of 
creative power which dazzles us in the reigns of Elizabeth and her 
successor, yet has left deep traces on the turn of thought and expression 
of the English people ; and confining ourselves to the department of 
poetry, and excluding the solitary example in Milton of a poet of the 
first class, who will form the subject of a separate study, we may say 
that this period introduced a class of excellent writers in whom the 
intellect and the fancy play a greater part than sentiment or passion. 
Ingenuity predominates over feeling; and while Milton owed much to 
many of these poets, whom I have ventured, in accordance with John- 
son, to style the metaphysical class, nevertheless we must allow that 
they had much to do with generating the so-called correct and artificial 
manner which distinguishes the classical writers of the age of William, 
Anne, and the first George. I propose to pass in rapid review, and 
generally according to chronological order, the most striking names of 
this department, extending from about 1600 to 1700. 

§ 2. George Wither (158S-1667) and Francis Quarles (1592- 
1644) are a pair of poets whose writings have a considerable degree of 
resemblance in manner and subject, and whose lives were similar in 
misfortune. Wither took an active part in the Civil War, attained 
command under the administration of Cromwell, and had to undergo 
severe persecution and long imprisonment. His most important work 
is a collection of poems, of a partially pastoral character, entitled the 
Shepherd's Hunting, in which the reader will find frequent rural de- 
scriptions of exquisite fancifulness and beauty, together with a sweet 
and pure tone of moral reflection. The vice of Wither, as it was gen- 
erally of the literature of his age, was a passion for ingenious turns 



1G8 THE SO-CALLED METAPHYSICAL POETS. [Chap. IX. 

and unexpected conceits, which bear the same relation to really beauti- 
ful thoughts that plays upon words do to true wit. He is also often 
singularly deficient in taste, and frequently deforms graceful images by 
the juxtaposition of what is merely quaint, and is sometimes even 
ignoble. Many of his detached lyrics are extremely beautiful, and the 
verse is generally flowing and melodious ; but in reading his best pas- 
sages we are always nervously apprehensive of coming at any moment 
upon something which will jar upon our sj'mpathy. He wrote, among 
many other works, a curious series of Emblems^ in which his puritani- 
cal enthusiasm revels in a system of moral and theological analogies at 
least as far-fetched as poetical. Qiiarles, though a Royalist as ardent as 
Wither was a devoted Republican, exhibits many points of intellectual 
resemblance to Wither; to whom, however, he was far inferior in 
poetical sentiment. One of his most popular works is a collection of 
Divine Emblems, in which moral and religious precepts are inculcated 
in short poems of a most quaint character, and illustrated by engravings 
filled with what may be called allegory run mad. For example, the 
text, " Who will deliver me from the body of this death.?" is accom- 
panied by a cut representing a diminutive human figure, typifying the 
soul, peeping through the ribs of a skeleton as from behind the bars of 
a dungeon. This taste for extravagant j^et prosaic allegory was bor- 
rowed from the laborious ingenuity of the Dutch and Flemish moralists 
and divines; and Otto Van Veen, the teacher of Rubens, is answerable 
for some of the most extravagant pictorial absurdities of this nature. 
Qiiarles, however, in spite of his quaintness, is not destitute of the 
feeling of a true poet; and many of his pieces breathe an intense 
spirit of religious fervor. In spite of their antagonism in politics, 
Quarles and Wither bear a strong resemblance : the one may be desig- 
nated as the most roundhead of the Cavaliers, the other as the most 
cavalier of the Roundheads. 

§ 3. If Qiiarles and Wither represent ingenuity carried to extrava- 
gance, George Herbert (1593-1632) and Richard Crashaw (circa 
1620-1650) exhibit the highest exaltation of religious sentiment, and 
are both worthy of admiration, not only as Christian poets, but as good 
men and pious priests. George Herbert was born in 1593, and at first 
rendered himself remarkable by the graces and accomplishments of the 
courtly scholar; but afterwards entering the Church, exhibited, as 
parish priest of Bemerton in Wiltshi'-e, all the virtues which can adorn 
the country parson — a character he has beautifully described in a prose 
treatise under that title. He died in 1632, and was known among his 
contemporaries as " holy George Herbert." He was certainly one of 
the most perfect characters which the Anglican Church has nourished in 
her bosom. His poems, principally religious, are generally short lyrics, 
combining pious aspiration with frequent and beautiful pictures of 
nature. He decorates the altar with the sweetest and most fragrant 
flowers of fancy and of wit. Herbert's poems are not devoid of that 
strange and perverted ingenuity with which I have reproached Qiiarles 
and Wither ; but the tender unction which reigns throughout his lyrics 



A. D. 1520-1674-] CRASHAW. HERRI CK. LOVELACE. 1G9 

serves as a kind of antidote to the poison of perpetual conceits. In his 
most successful efforts he has almost attained the perfection of de- 
votional poetrj', a calm and jet ardent glow, a well-governed fervor, 
which seem peculiarly to belong to the Church of which he was a 
minister, equally removed from the pompous and childish enthusiasm 
of Catholic devotion and the gloomy mj-sticism of Calvinistic piety. 
His best collection of sacred lyrics is entitled the TemJ>le, or Sacred 
Poems and Private Ej'aculaiiojis. 

Cj'ashaw's short life was glowing throughout with religious enthu- 
siasm. The date of his birth is not exactly known, but probably was 
about 1620; and he<iied, a canon of the Cathedral of Loretto, in 1650. 
He was brought up in the Anglican Church, and received a learned 
education at Oxford ; but during the Puritan troubles he embraced tlie 
Romish faith, and carried to the ancient Church a singularly sensitive 
mind, very extensive erudition, and a gentle but intense devotional 
mysticism. He had been emploj^ed in negotiation by Charles I., and 
seems to have possessed among his contemporaries a high reputation 
for ability. The mystical tendency of his mind was increased by his 
misfortunes and by his change of religion, and in his later works we 
find the fervor of his pietism reaching a pitch little short of extrava- 
gance. He is said to have been an ardent admirer of the ecstatic writings 
of St. Theresa ; and that union of the sensuous fervor of human affec- 
tion with the wildest flights of theological rapture which we see in the 
writings of the great Catholic mystics, is faithfully reproduced in 
Crashaw. That he possessed an exquisite fancy, great melody of verse, 
and that power over the reader which nothing can replace, and which 
springs from deep earnestness, no one can deny. The reader will never 
regret the time he may have employed in making some acquaintance 
with Crashaw's poetry, among the most favorable specimens of which 
I may cite the Steps to tJie Temple, and the beautiful description entitled 
Music's Dtiel, borrowed from the celebrated Conte7itio7i between a 
Nightijigale and a Musician^ composed by Famianus Strada, of which 
there is a most exquisite imitation in Ford's play of the Lover's Melan- 
choly. 

§ 4. Love, romantic loyalty, and airy elegance find their best repre- 
sentatives in three charming poets whose works may be examined 
under one general head. These are Robert Herrick (1591-1674), 
Sir John Suckling (1609-1641), and Sir Richard Lovelace (161S- 
1658). The first of these writers, after beginning his career among the 
brilliant but somewhat debauched literary society of the town and the 
theatre, took orders, and, like Herbert, passed the latter portion of his 
life in the obscurity of a country parish. lirilike Herbert, however, he 
continued to exhibit in his writings, after this change of life, the same 
graceful but voluptuous spirit which distinguished his early writings ; 
and unlike the holy pastor of Bemerton, he seems never to have ceased 
repining at the fate which obliged him to exchange the gay conversa- 
tion of poets and wits for the unsympathizing companionship of the 
rural '* salvages " among whom he was condemned to live. His poems 
15 



170 THE SO-CALLED METAPHYSICAL POETS. [Chap. IX. 

are all Ija-ic, generally songs; and love and wine fjrm their invariable 
topics. In Herrick we find the most unaccountable mixture of sensual 
coarseness with exquisite refinement. Like the Faun of the ancient 
sculpture, his Muse unites the bestial and the divine. In fancy, in 
genius, in poAver over the melody of verse, he is never deficient ; and it 
is easy to see that in his union of tenderness with richness of imagina- 
tion he had been inspired by the lovely pastoral and Ij^ric movements 
of Fletcher and of Heywood. Suckling and Lovelace are the types of 
the Cavalier poet: both underwent persecution, and were reduced to 
poverty. Lovelace was long and often imprisoned for his adherence to 
the loyal doctrines of his party, and is said to haVe died in abject dis- 
tress. Both were men of elegant if not profound scholarship, and both 
e?;emplify the spirit of loyalty to their king, and gallantry to the ladies. 
Many of Suckling's love songs are equal, if not supei'ior, to the most 
beautiful "examples of that mixture of gay badinage and tender if not 
very deep-felt devotion which characterizes French courtly and erotic 
poetry in the seventeenth century ; and his thoughts are expressed with 
that cameo-like neatness and refinement of expression which is the 
great merit of the minor French literature from ^larot to Bcranger. 
But his most exquisite production is his Ballad tipon a Weddings in 
which, assuming the character of a rustic, he describes the marriage of 
a fashionable couple. Lord Broghill and Lady Margaret Howard, In 
this inimitable gern, if we exclude one or two allusions of a somewhat 
too warm complexion, the reader will find the perfection of grace and 
elegance, rendered only the more piquant by the well-assumed naTvete 
of the stj'le. Lovelace is more serious and earnest than Suckling : his 
lyrics breathe rather, devoted loyalty than the half-passionate, half- 
jesting love-fancy of his rival. Some of his most charming lyrics were 
written in prison ; and the beautiful lines to Althea, composed when 
the author Avns closely confined in the Gate-house at Westminster, 
remind us of the caged bird which learns its sweetest and most plain- 
tive notes when deprived of its woodland liberty. 

The gay and airy spirit which we see running through the minor 
poetry of this epoch maybe traced back to a period considerably earlier 
— to the contemporaries of Ben Jonson and the great dramatists. The 
pleasant and facetious Bishop Corbet (p, 86), Carew, one of the 
ornaments of the court of Charles I, (p, 86), and even Drummond 
(p. 87), though the genius of the latter is of a more serious turn, all 
exhibit a tendency to intellectual ingenuity which was afterwards grad- 
ually divested of that somewhat pedantic character which Drummond, 
for example, had imbibed from his models, the masters of the Italian 
sonnet. It is curious to observe that the Scots should in this time have 
distinguished themselves in their writings by a learned and artifixially 
classical spirit strangely at variance with the unadorned graces of the 
" native woodnotes wild " that thrill so sweetly through their national 
and popular songs. This learned character was perhaps derived from, 
as it is chiefl^^ exemplified in, Buchanan, one of the purest and most 
truly classical writers in Latin verse among those who have appeared 



A. D. 1590-1687.] BROWNE. EABINGTON, WALLER. 171 

since the destruction of Roman literature (p. 107). The Scots have 
generally been a learned people, and much of their national annals 
was written in Latin, sometimes in Latin of great elegance. This may 
perhaps be in some degree attributed to the fact that their vernacular 
dialect, when they employed it, was, though certainly far too cultivated 
to be stigmatized as 2i patots of English, yet at all events no better than 
a provincial mode of speech; and the naTvete which is charming in a 
song or poem runs great risk of exciting contempt when coloring his- 
torical or philosophical matter. 

§ 5. William Browne (1590-1645) was the author, besides a large 
number of graceful lyrics and shorter poems, of a work entitled Bri- 
tanjiia's Pastorals, undoubtedly suggested, as far as their style and 
treatment are concerned, by the example of Spenser and Giles Fletcher. 
They contain much agreeable description of rural life, but they are 
chargeable with that ineradicable defect which accompanies all idyllic 
poetry, however beautiful may be its details, namely, the want of prob- 
ability in the scenes and characters, when the reader tests them by a 
reference to his own experience of what rustic life really is. His verse 
is almost uniformly well-knit, easy, and harmonious ; and the attentive 
reader could select many passages from this poet, now little read, ex- 
hibiting great felicitj^ of thought and expression. 

William Habington (1605-1654) is a poet of about the same calibre 
as Browne, though his writings are principally devoted to love. He 
celebrates, with much ingenuity and occasional grace, the charms and 
virtues of a lady whom he calls Castara, and who — a fate rare in the 
annals of the love of poets — was not only his ideal mistress, but his 
wife. Habington, like Crashaw, was a Catholic; and his poems are 
free from that immorality which so often stains the graceful fancies of 
the poets of this age. Though generally devoted to love, Habington's 
collected works exhibit some of a moral and religious tendency. 

§ 6. The most prominent and popular figures of the period we are 
now considering, and the writers who exerted the strongest influence 
on their own time, I have reserved till the end of this chapter : they are 
Waller and Cowley, to which may be added the secondary but still 
important names of Denham and Davenant. 

Edmund Waller (1605-1687) was unquestionably one of tlae leading 
characters in the literary and political history of England during the 
momentous period embraced by his long life. He was of ancient and 
dignified family, of great wealth, and a man of varied accomplishments 
and fascinating manners ; but his character was timid and selfish, and 
his political principles fluctuated with every change that menaced 
either his safety or his interest. He sat for many years in Parliament, 
and was the " darling of the House of Commons " for the readiness of 
his repartees and the originality and pleasantness of his speeches. It 
was unfortunate for a man endowed with the light talents formed to 
adorn a court to be obliged to take part in public aftairs at so serious a 
ci-isis as that of the Long Parliament, the Civil War, and the Restora- 
tion ; but Waller seems for a while to have floated scathless through 



172 THE SO-CALLED METAPTIYSICAL POETS. [Chap. IX, 

the storms of that terrible time, trusting, like the nautilus, to the ver^ 
fragility which bears it safely among rocks and quicksands where an 
argosy would be wrecked. He exhibited repeated indications of tergi- 
versation in those difficult times, professing adherence to Puritan and 
Republican doctrines while really sympathizing with the Court partj'; 
and on more than, one occasion was accused of something very like 
distinct military treachery. Even his consummate adroitness did not 
always succeed in securing impunity ; and in 1643 he was convicted by 
the House of a plot to betray London to the King, and narrowly 
escaped a capital punishment, being imprisoned, fined 10,000/., and 
obliged to exile himself for some time, which he passed in France. 
His conduct at this juncture is said to have been mean and abject. 
Though distantly related by birth to the great and good Hampden, and 
to Oliver Cromwell himself, whom he has celebrated in one of his 
finest poems. Waller was ready to hail with enthusiasm every new 
change in the political world ; and he panegyrized Cromwell and 
Charles II. with equal fervor, though not with equal eftect. He lived to 
see the accession of James II., whose policy he prophesied would lead 
to the fatal results that afterwards occurred. During the whole of his 
life Waller was the idol of societj', but neither much trusted nor much 
respected — a pliant, versatile, adroit partisan, joining and deserting all 
causes in succession, and steering his bark with address through the 
dangers of the time. In his own day, and in the succeeding generation, 
his poetry enjoyed the highest reputation. He was said to have carried 
to perfection the art of expressing graceful and sensible ideas in the 
clearest and most harmonious language; but his example, which acted 
so powerfully on Drj'den and Pope, has ceased to exert the same in- 
fluence, which it owed rather to the good sense and good taste by which 
Waller avoids faults than to the ardor and enthusiasm which can alone 
attain beauties. Regular, reasonable, well-balanced, well-proportioned, 
the lines of Waller always gratify the judgment, but never touch the 
heart or fire the imagination. Here and there in his works may be 
found strokes of happy ingenuity which we know not whether to attrib- 
ute more to accident or to genius; as in the passage where he laments 
the cruelty of his mistress Sacharissa (Lady Dorothy Sidney), and 
boasts that his disappointment as a lover had given him immortality 
as a poet, he makes the following delicious allusion to the fable of 
Apollo and Daphne : — 

**I caught at love, but filled my arms with bays.'* 

Most of his poems are love verses, but his panegyric on Cromwell con- 
tains many passages of great dignity and force. He was les'i felicitous 
in his longer work, the Battle of the Summer Islands, in which, in a 
half-serious, half-comic strain, he described an attack upon a stranded 
whale in the Bahamas. 

§ 7 Sir William Davenant (1605-1668), born in the same year 
with Waller, was one of the most active literary and political person- 
ages of his day. He is principally interesting to us at the present day 



A. D. i6o5-i668.] DAVENANT. DUNHAM. 173 

as being connected with the revival of the theatre after the eclipse it 
had suffered during the severe Puritan rule ; and nothing can m6re 
clearly indicate the immense change which literary taste had under- 
gone, than the fact that Davenant, who was a most ardent worshipper 
of the genius of Shakspeare and Shakspeare's mighty contemporaries, 
should, in attempting to revive their works, have found it necessary to 
alter their spirit so completely, that a reader who admires the originals 
must regard the adaptations with a feeling little less than disgust. Yet 
there can be no doubt that Davenant's veneration was sincere. He was 
long connected with the Court Theatre, and both in the dramas which he 
composed himself, and in those which he adapted and placed upon the 
stage, we see how far the taste for splendor of scenery, dances, music, 
and decoration had usurped the passion of the earlier public for truth 
and intensity in the picturing of life and nature. Declamation and 
pompous tirades had now taken the place of the ancient style of dia- 
logue, so varied, so natural, touching every key of human feeling, from 
the wildest gayety to the deepest pathos. The mechanical accessories 
of the stage had been immensely improved; actresses, young, beauti- 
ful, and skilful, usurped the place of the boys of the Elizabethan scene, 
and in every respect the stage had undergone a complete revolution. 
We see the influence of that French or classical taste which was 
brought into England hy the exiled court of Charles TI,, and which 
afterwards completely metamorphosed the character of our dramatic 
literature, which, in the time of Dryden and Congreve, was destined 
to produce much that was imposing and vigorous in tragedy and much 
that was inimitable in comedy, but which was, in all its essentials, 
something totally different from the great productions of the preceding 
era. Davenant was a most prolific author, not only in the dramatic 
department, in which his most popular productions were Aldoznnc, the 
Siege of Rhodes, the Laxv against Lovers, the Cruel Brother, and 
many others, but also as a narrative poet. He was also one of the 
most active, virulent, and unscrupulous party-writers of that period. 
There is a ridiculous story of Davenant being in the habit of giving 
out that he was a natural son of William Shakspeare by a handsome 
Oxford landlady, but neither the supposition itself nor the fact of Dav- 
enant's exhibiting such a strange, perverted kind of vanity, is at all 
deserving of credit. One of Davenant's principal non-dramatic works 
is the poem of Gondibcrt, narrating a long series of lofty and chivalric 
adventures in a dignified but somewhat monotonous manner. It is 
written in a peculiar four-lined stanza with alternate rhymes, afterwards 
employed by Dryden in his Ajinus Mirabilis. It is, however, a form 
of versification singularly unfitted for continuous narration, and its 
employment may be one cause of the neglect into which the once- 
admired work of Davenant has fallen — a neglect so complete that per- 
haps there are not ten men in England now living who have read it 
through. 

- Sir John Denham (1615-1668) was the son of the Chief Baron of 
the Exchequer in Ireland, and a supporter of Charles I. Though a 
15* 



174 TEE SO-CALLED METAPHYSICAL POETS. [Chap. IX. 

poet of the secondary order, when regarded in connection with Cow- 
ley, one work of his, Cooper's Hill, will always occupy an important place 
in any account of the English Literature of the seventeenth century. 
This place it owes not only to its specific merits, but also in no mean 
degree to the circumstance that this poem was the first work in a pecu- 
liar department which English writers afterwards cultivated with great ~\ 
success, and which is, I believe, almost exclusively confined to our lit- "*' 
erature. This department is what may be called local or topographic 
poetry, and in it the writer chooses some individual scene as the object ;^- 
round which he is to accumulate his descriptive or contemplative pas- <-^ 
sages. Denham selected for this purpose a beautiful spot near Rich- \ 
mond on the Thames, and in the description of the scene itself, as well 
as in the reflections it suggests, he has risen to a noble elevation. Four 
lines, indeed, in which he expresses the hope that his own verse may 
possess the qualities which he attributes to the Thames, will be quoted 
again and again as one of the finest and most felicitous passages of 
verse in any language. 

§ 8. One of the most accomplished and influential writers of the 
period was Abraham Cowley (1618-1667). He exhibits one of the 
most perfect types of the ideal man of letters. He was a remarkable 
instance of intellectual precocity, for he is said to have published his 
first poems, filled with enthusiasm by the Fairy ^neen of Spenser, 
when only thirteen years of age. He received a very complete and 
learned education, partly at Oxford, and afterwards, when obliged by 
religious and political troubles to leave that academy, in the sister Uni- 
versity of Cambridge ; and he early acquired and long retained among 
his contemporaries the reputation of being one of the best scholars and 
most distinguished poets of his age. During the earlier part of his 
life he had been confidentially employed, both in England and in 
France, in the service of Charles I. and his queen, and on attaining 
middle age he determined to put in execution the philosophical project 
he had long fondly cherished, of living in rural and lettered retirement. 
He was disappointed in obtaining such a provision as he thought his 
services had deserved ; but receiving a grant of some crown leases prp- 
ducing a moderate income, he quitted London and went to reside near 
Chertsey. But his dreams of ease and tranquillity were not fulfilled; 
he was involved in continual squabbles with the tenants, from whom 
he could extort no rents ; and he speaks with constant querulousness 
of the hostility and vexations to which he was subjected. He died of 
a fever caused by imprudence and excess, but not before he had learned 
the melancholy truth that annoyances and vexations pursue us even 
into the recesses of rural obscurity. 

Cowley is highly regarded among the writers of his time both as a 
poet and an essayist. Immense and multifarious learning, well digested 
by reflection and polished into brilliancy by taste and sensibility, ren- 
ders his prose works, in which he frequently intermingles passages of 
verse, reading little less delightful than the fascinating pages of Mon- 
taigne. Cowley, like Montaigne, possesses the charm arising from the 



A. D. 1618-1667.] CO WLET. 175 

intimate union between reading and reflection, between curious erudi- 
tion and original speculation, the quaintness of the scholar and the 
practical knowledge of the man of the world. There are few writers 
so substantial as Cowley; few whose productions possess that peculiar 
attraction which grows upon the reader as he becomes older and more 
contemplative. As a poet, the reputation of Cowlej, immense in his 
own day, has much diminished, which is to be attributed to that abuse 
of intellectual ingenuity, that passion for learned, far-fetched, and 
recondite illustrations which was to a certain extent the vice of his age. 
He has very little passion or depth of sentiment; and in his love-verses 
— a kind of composition then thought obligatory on all who were 
ambitious of the name of poet — he substitutes the play of the intel- 
lect for the unaffected outpouring of the feelings. He Avas deeply versed 
both in Greek and Latin literature, and his imitations, paraphrases, 
and translations show perfect knowledge of his originals and great 
mastery over the resources of the English language. He translated the 
Odes of Anacreoii, and attempted to revive the boldness, the pictu- 
resqueness, and the fire of the Pindaric poetry; but his odes have only 
an external resemblance with those of the " Theban Eagle." They 
have the irregularity of form — only an apparent irregularity in the 
case of the Greek originals, which, it must be remembered, were writ- 
ten to be accompanied by that Greek music of whose structure nothing 
is now known ; but they have not that intense and concentrated fire 
which burns with an inextinguishable ardor, like the product of some 
chemical combustion, in the great Boeotian lyrist. Cowley seems al- 
ways on the watch to seize some ingenious and unexpected parallelism 
of ideas or images; and when the illustration is so found, the shock 
of surprise which the reader feels is rather akin to a flash of wit than 
to an electric stroke of genius. Cowley lived at the moment when the 
revolution inaugurated by Bacon was beginning to produce its first 
fruits. The Royal Society, then recently founded, was astonishing the 
world, and astonishing its own members, by the immense horizon 
opening before the bold pioneers of the Inductive Philosophy. In this 
mighty movement Cowley deeply sympathized; and perhaps the finest 
of his lyric compositions are those in which, with a grave and well- 
adorned eloquence, he proclaims the genius and predicts the triumphs 
of Bacon and his disciples in phj'sical science. 

One long epic poem of great pretension Cowley meditated but left 
unfinished. This is the Davideis, the subject of which is the suffer- 
ings and glories of the King of Israel. But this work is now complete- 
ly neglected. Biblical personages and events have rarely, with the 
solitary and sublime exception of Milton, been transported with success 
out of the majestic language of the Scripture; and it maj^ be main- 
tained, without much fear of contradiction, that the rhymed heroic 
couplet — the measure employed by Cowley — is not a form of versifi- 
cation capable of supporting the attention of the reader through a lofty 
epic narrative. The genius of Cowley was far more lyric than epic; 



176 



NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 



[Chap. IX. 



and in his shorter compositions he exerted that influence upon the styla 
of EngHsh poetry which tended very much, during nearly two centu- 
ries, to modify it very perceptibly, and which is especially traceable in 
the writings of Dryden, Pope, and generally in the next succeeding 
generations. 



NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 



OTHER POETS. 

William ChaMbeklayne (1610-1689), a physi- 
cian at Shaftesbury, in Dorsetshire, >vrote I'haron- 
uida, an heroic poem, in five books, which 
contains some vigorous passages, but the versifica- 
tion is rugged, and the stj'le slovenly and quaint. 
Chamberlaync is also the author of a tragi-comedy 
entitled Love's Victor)/, acted after tlie Restoration 
under the new title of Wits led by the Nose, or the 
J'oet's Revenge. 

CUAELES Cotton (1630-1687), best known as the 
friend of Izaak Walton, had an estate in Derby- 
suirc upon the river Dove, celebrated for its trout. 
lie wrote several humorous poems, and his Voyage 
to Ireland, Campbell remarks, seems to anticipate 
tlie manner of Anstey in the Balk Guide. 

He>ky VAUGnAX (1614-1605), a native of Wales, 
born in Brecknockshire, first bred to the law, which 
he afterwards relinquished for the profession of 
physic. lie published in 1651 a volume of miscel- 
laneous poems. Campbell says of him that " he is 
one. of the harshest even of the inferior order of the 
school of conceit ; but he has some scattered thoughts 
that meet our eye amid his harsh pages, like wild 
flowers on a barren heath." 

De. Henky King (1591-1669), chaplain to James 
1., and afterwards Bishop of Chichester, -wrote 
chiefly religious poetry. His thoughts are elevated, 
and his language is choice. His style is not free 
from the conceits so fashionable in the writers of 
tliis age, but the little fancies he indulges are chaste 
and fuU of beauty. 

John Cleveland (1613-1658), son of a Leices- 
tershire clergyman, distinguished himself as a sol- 



dier and poet on the king's side during the Civil 
War. In 161' he published a severe satire on tha 
Scotch ; was imprisoned in 1655, released by Crom- 
well, but died soon after. Some of his writings are 
amatory, and though conceited contain true poetry. 
It is said that Butler borrowed no little from him ia 
his ' Hudibras.' 

SlE RicnAED Fansilvave (1607-1666), brother of 
Lord Fanshawe, and secretary to Prince Rupert. 
He was made ambassador to Spain by Charles II., 
and died at Madrid. He translated Camoens' Lu- 
siad, and the Pastor Fido of Guarini. He wrote 
also some minor poems. His song, Tlie Saint's 
Encouragement, 1643, is full of clever satire, and 
all his verse is forcible, with here and there a 
touch of the true poet's beauty. 

TnoMAS Stanley (1625-1678), a native of Hert- 
fordshire, studied at Cambridge, and entered the 
Middle Temple. In 1651 he published some poems 
chiefly on the tender passion, full of beautiful 
thought and happy fancy, but marked by the too 
common quaintness of the times. 

Duchess of Xeavcastle (d. 1673), daughter of 
Sir Charles Lucas, and maid of honor to Queca 
Henrietta Maria. In 1653 she published Poems and 
Fancies — was assisted by her husbatid in many of 
her writings, according to Horace Walpole in the 
Royal and Noble Authors. Twelve folio volumes 
were issued by the industrious marquis and his wife, 
but the value of the writings is not great. 

Mrs. Kathleine Piiilii-S (1631-1664), a Cardi- 
ganshire lady, known by the name of Orinda, ex- 
ceedingly popular as a writer with her contempo- 
raries. Her style is more free than that of most of 
the poets of the age irom quaintness and coDceiU 



1 



A. D. 1584-1656.] TUEOilOGICAL WRITERS. 177 



CHAPTER X. 

THEOLOGICAL WRITERS OF THE CIVIL WAR AND THE 
COMMONWEALTH. 

§ 1. Theological "Writers. Johx Hales and William Chillingworth. § 2. 
Sill Thomas Browne. ^ 3. Thomas Fuller. § 4. Jeremy Taylor. His 
Life. §5. Wis Liberty of Prophesying a.ndi oi\ier vior\s. § 6. His style com- 
pared with Spenser. § 7. Richard Baxter. The Quakers : Fox, Penn, and 
Barclay. 

§ 1. The Civil War, which led to the temporary overthrow of the 
ancient monarchj of England, was in many respects a religious as well 
as a political contest. It' was a struggle for liberty of faith at least as 
much as for liberty of civil government. The prose literature of this 
time, therefore, as well as of a period extending considerably beyond 
it, exhibits a strong religious or theological character. The blood of 
martyrs, it has been said, is the seed of the Church ; and the alternate 
triumphs and persecutions, through which passed both the Anglican 
Church and the multiplicity of rival sects which now arose, naturally 
developed to the highest degree both the intellectual powers and the 
Christian energies of their adherents. The most glorious outburst of 
theological eloquence which the Church of England has exhibited, in 
the writings of Jeremy Taylor, Barrow, and the other great Anglican 
Fathers, was responded to by the appearance, in the ranks of the sec- 
taries, of many remarkable men, some hardly inferior in learning and 
genius to the leaders whose doctrines they opposed, while others, with 
a ruder yet more burning enthusiasm, were the founders of dissenting 
communions, as in the case of the Quakers. 

John Hales (15S4-1656), surnamed " the ever-memorable John 
Hales," was a man who enjoyed among his contemporaries an im- 
mense reputation for the vastness of his learning and the acuteness of 
his wit. He was born in 1584, and in the earlier part of his life had 
acquired, by travel and diplomatic service in foreign countries, a vast 
amount not only of literary knowledge, but practical acquaintance with 
men and aftairs : he afterwards retired to the learned obscurity of a 
fellowship of Eton College, where he passed the sad and dangerous 
years filled with civil contention. During part of this time his writings 
and opinions rendered him so obnoxious to the dominant party that 
a price was set upon his head, and he was obliged to hide, being at the 
same time reduced to the extremest privations. He for some time sub- 
sisted by the sale of his books. He died in 1656, and left behind him 
.the reputation of one of the most solid and yet acutest intellects that 
his country had produced. The greater part of his writings are con- 
troversial, treating on the politico-religious questions that then agitated 



178 THEOLOGICAL WRITERS. [Chap. X 

men's minds. He had been present at the Synod of Dort, and has 
given an interesting account of the questions debated in that assembly. 
While attending its sittings as an agent for the English Church he was 
converted from the Calvinistic opinions he had hitherto held to those 
of the Episcopalian divines. Both in his controversial writings and 
in his sermons he exhibits a fine example of that rich'yet chastened 
eloquence which characterizes the great English divines of tfce seven- 
teenth century, and which was carried to the highest pitch of gorgeous 
magnificence by Taylor and of majestic grandeur by Barrow. 

William Chillingworth (1602-1644), also an eminent defender 
of Protestantism against the Church of Rome, was converted to the 
Roman Catholic faith while studying at Oxford, and went to the Jesuits' 
College at Douay. But he subsequently returned to Oxford, renounced 
his new faith, and published in 1637 his celebrated work against Cathol- 
icism, entitled The Religion of the Protestants a Safe Way to Salva- 
tion^ in reply to a treatise by a Jesuit, named Knott, who had main- 
tained that unrepenting Protestants could not be saved. " In the long 
parenthetical periods," observes Mr. Hallam, " as in those of other old 
English writers, in his copiousness, which is never empty or tautologi- 
cal, there is an inartificial eloquence springing from strength of intel- 
lect and sincerity of feeling that cannot fail to impress the reader. But 
his chief excellence is the close reasoning which avoids every danger- 
ous admission, and yields to no ambiguousness of language. He per- 
ceived and maintained with great courage, considering the times in 
which he wrote and the temper of those whom he was not unwilling to 
keep as friends, his favorite tenet, that all things necessary to be 
believed are clearly laid down in. Scripture. ... In later times his book 
obtained a high reputation ; he was called the immortal Chillingworth ; 
he was the favorite of all the moderate and the latitudinarian writers, 
of Tillotson, Locke, and Warburton." 

§ 2. The writings of Sir Thomas Browne (1605-1682), though not 
exclusively theological, belong, chronologically as wxll as by their style 
and manner, to this department. Both as a man and a writer this is 
one of the most peculiar and eccentric of our great prose-authors; and 
the task of giving a clear appreciation of him is unusually difficult. 
He was an exceedingly learned man, and passed the greater part of his 
life in practising physic in the ancient city of Norwich. It should be 
remembered that the great provincial towns at that time had not been 
degraded to that insignificance to which the modern facility of inter- 
course has reduced them in relation to the Metropolis : they were then 
so many little capitals, possessing their society, their commercial activ- 
ity, and their local physiognomy, and had not yet been swallowed up 
by the monster London. Browne was born in 1605, and his life was 
unusually prolonged, as he died in 1682. His writings are of a most 
miscellaneous character, ranging froin observations on natural science 
to the most arduous subtleties of moral and metaphysical speculation. 
Among the most popular of his works are the treatise entitled Hydrio- 
taphia, or Urn-Burial, and the Essays on Vulgar Errors, which bear 



A. D. i6o8-i66i.] BROWNE. FULLER. 179 

the name oi Pseudoxia Epidemica. Th'fe first of tt ase treatises was sug- 
gested bj the digging up in Norfolk of some Roman funeral urns, and 
the other is an attempt to overthrow many of the common supersti- 
tions and erroneous notions on various subjects. But a mere specifica- 
tion of the subject will altogether fail to give an idea of Browne's 
strange but fascinating writings. They are the frank and undisguised 
outpourin|^ of one of the most original minds that ever existed. With 
the openness and discursive simplicity of Montaigne, they combine 
immense and recondite reading : at every step the author starts some 
extraordinary theory, which he illustrates by analogies so singular and 
unexpected that they produce upon the reader a mingled feeling of 
amusement and surprise, and all this in a style absolutely bristling 
witl^ quaint Latinisms, which in another writer would be pedantic, but 
in Browne were the natural garb of his thought. His diction is stiff 
with scholastic terms, like the chasuble of some medireval prelate, 
thick-set with pearl and ruby. The contrast between the simplicity of 
Browne's character and the out-of-the-way learning and odd caprices 
of theory in which he is perpetually indulging, makes him one of the 
most amusing of writers; and he very frequently rises to a sombre and 
touching eloquence. Though deeply religious in sentiment he is some- 
times apparently sceptical, and his sudden turns of thought and strange 
comparisons keep the attention of the reader continually awake. He 
stands almost alone in his passion for pursuing an idea through every 
conceivable manifestation; and his ingenuity on such occasions is 
absolutely portentous. For instance, in a treatise on the ^iiincitnx he 
finds quincunxes on the earth, in the waters, and in the heavens, naj^, 
in the very intellectual constitution of the soul. He has a particular 
tendency to dwell on the dark mysteries of time and of the universe, 
and makes us thrill with the solemnity with 'which he suggests the 
nothingness of mortal life, and the insignificance of human interests 
when compared to the immeasurable ages that lie before and behind us. 
In all Sir Thomas Browne's works an intimate companionship is estab-. 
lished between the writer and the reader ; but the book in which he 
ostensibly proposes to communicate his own personal opinions and 
feelings most unreservedly, is the Religio Medici^ a species of Confes- 
sion of Faith. In this he by no means confines himself to theological 
matters, but takes the reader into his confidence in the same artless 
and undisguised manner as the immortal Montaigne. The images and 
illustrations with which his writings are crowded, produce upon the 
reader the same effect as the familiar yet mysterious forms that make 
up an Egyptian hieroglyphic : they have the same fantastic odditj^, the 
same quaint stiffness in their attitude and combination, and impress 
the mind with the same air of solemn significance and outlandish 
remoteness from the ordinary objects of our contemplation. 

§ 3. Thomas Fuller (1608-1661) is another great and attractive 
prose-writer of this period, and has in some respects a kind of intellec- 
tual resemblance to Browne. Unlike him, however, he passed a very 
active life, having taken a not unprominent part in the Great Civil 



180 THEOLOGICAL WRITERS. [Chap. X 

War, in which he embraced the cause of the royalists. Hs was born in 
1608, and survived till 1661, and it is said was to have been rewarded 
for his services with a bishopric, had the intention of the restored court 
not been defeated by his death. He studied first at Qiieen's and after- 
wards at Sidney College, Cambridge, and, entering the Church, ren- 
dered himself conspicuous in the pulpit. In the course of time he was 
nominated preacher at the Savoy in London, and in 1642, i|ist at the 
outbreak of the Civil War, offended the Parliament by a sermon deliv- 
ered at Westminster, in which he advised reconciliation with the King, 
who had left his capital and was on the eve of declaring war against 
his subjects. Fuller after this joined Charles at Oxford, and is said to 
have displeased the court party by a degree of moderat'.on which they 
called lukewarmness. Having thus excited the dissatisfaction of both 
factions, we may, I think, fairly attribute to reasonable and moderate 
views the double unpopularity of Fuller. During the war he was at- 
tached, as chaplain, to the army commanded by Sir Ralph Hopton, in 
the West of England; and he took a distinguished par.^ in the famous 
defence of Basing House, when the Parliamentary an^iy under Sir 
William Waller was forced to abandon that siege. During his cam- 
paigning Fuller industriously collected the materials for his most 
popular work, the Worthies of England and Wales, which, however, 
was not published until after the author's death. This, more than his 
Church History, is the production with which posterity has generally 
associated the name of Fuller; but his Sermons frequently exhibit 
those singular peculiarities of style which render him one of the most 
remarkable writers of his age. His writings are eminently amusing^ 
not only from the multiplicity of curious and anecdotic details which 
they contain, but from the odd and yet frequently profound reflections 
suggested by those details. The Worthies contain biographical notices 
of eminent Englishmen, as connected with the different counties, and 
furnish an inexhaustible treasure of curious stories and observations : 
but whatever the subject Fuller treats, he places it in such a number of 
new and unexpected lights, and introduces in illustration of it such a 
number of ingenious remarks, that the attention of the reader is inces- 
santly kept alive. He was a man of a pleasant and jovial as well as an 
ingenious turn of mind : there is no sourness or asceticism in his way 
of thinking; flashes of fancy are made to light up the gravest and most 
unattractive subjects, and, as frequently happens in men of a lively 
turn, the sparkle of his wit is warmed by a glow of sympathy and ten- 
derness. His learning was very extensive and very minute, and he 
drew from out-of-the-way and neglected corners of reading, illustrations 
which give the mind a pleasant shock of novelty. One great source 
of his picturesqugness is his frequent use of antithesis ; and, in his 
works, antithesis is not what it frequently becomes in other authors, as 
in Samuel Johnson for example, a bare opposition of -words, but it is 
the juxtaposition of apparently discordant ideas, from whose sudden 
contact there flashes forth the spark of wit or the embodiment of some 
original conception. The shock of his antithetical oppositions is like 



A. D. 1613-1667.] JEREMY TAYLOR. 181 

the action of the galvanic battery — creative. He has been accused of 
levity in intermingling ludicrous images with serious matter, but these 
images are the reflex of his ovfn cheerful, ingenious, and amiable 
nature; and though their oddity may sometimes excite a smile, it is a 
smile which is never incompatible with serious feelings He is said to 
have possessed an almost supernatural quickness of memory, yet he 
has given many excellent precepts guarding against the abuse of this 
faculty, and in the same way he has shown that wit and ingenuity may 
be rendered compatible with lofty morality and deep feeling. In a 
word, he was essentially a wise and learned humorist, with not less 
singularity of genius than Sir Thomas Browne, and with less than 
that strange writer's abstract indifference to ordinary human interests. ^'^^^^^ 

§ 4. But by far the greatest theological writer of the Anglican Church 
at this period was Jeremy Taylor (1613-1667). He was of good but 
decayed family, his father having exercised the humble calling of a 
barber at Cambridge, where his illustrious son was born in 1613. The 
boy received a sound education at the Grammar-School founded by 
Perse, then recently opened in that town, and afterwards studied at 
Caius College, where his talents and learning soon made him conspicu- 
ous. He took holy orders at an unusually early age, and is said to 
have attracted by his youthful eloquence, and by his " grace fut and 
pleasant air," the notice of Archbishop Laud, the celebrated Primate 
and Minister, to whose narrow-minded bigotry and tj^rannical indiffer- 
ence to the state oi: religious opinion among his countrymen so much 
of the confusion of those days is to be ascribed. Laud, who was struck 
with Taylor's merits at a sermon preached by the latter, made the 
young priest one of his chaplains, and procured for him a fellowship 
in All Souls' College, Oxford. His career during the Civil War bears 
some semblance to that of Fuller, but he stood higher in the favor of 
the Cavaliers and the Court. He served, as chaplain, in the Royalist 
army, and was taken prisoner in 1644 at the action fought under the 
walls of Cardigan Castle; but he confesses that on this occasion, as 
well as on several others when he fell into the power of the triumphant 
party of the Parliament, he was treated with generosity and indulgence. 
Such traits of mutual forbearance, during the heat of civil strife, are 
honorable to both parties, and as refreshing as they are rare. Our 
great national struggle, however, offered many instances of such noble 
magnanimity. The King's cause growing desperate, Ta^'lor at last 
retired from it, and Charles, on taking leave of him, made him a pres- 
ent of his watch. Taylor then placed himself under the protection of 
his friend Lord Carbery, and resided for some time at the seat of Golden 
Grove, belonging to that nobleman, in Carmarthenshire. Taylor was 
twice married ; first to Phoebe Langdale, who died early, and after- 
wards to Joanna Bridges, a natural daughter of Charles I., with whom 
he received some fortune. He was unhappy in his children, his two 
sons having been notorious for their profligacy, and he had the sorrow 
of surviving them both. During part of the time which he passed in 
retirement, Taylor kept a school in Wales, and continued to take an 
16 ^ 



182 THEOLOOICAL WRITERS, [Chap. X. 

active part in the religious controversies of the day. The opinions he 
expressed were naturally distasteful to the dominant party, and on at 
least three occasion subjected him to imprisonment and sequestrations 
at the hands of the Government. In 1658, for example, he was for a 
short time incarcerated in the Tower, and on his liberation migrated to 
Ireland, where he performed the pastoral functions at Lisburri. On the 
Restoration his services and sacrifices were rewarded with the Bishopric 
of Down and Connor, and during the short time he held that prefer- 
ment he exhibited the brightest qualities that can adorn the episcopal 
dignity. He died at Lisburn of a fever, in 1667, and left behind him a 
high reputation for courtesj^, charity, and zeal — all the virtues of a 
Christian Bishop. 

§ 5. Taylor's works are very numerous and varied in subject: I will 
content myself with mentioning the principal, and then endeavor to 
give a general appreciation of his genius. In the controversial depart- 
ment his best known work is the treatise On the Liberty of Prophesy- 
mg, which must be understood to refer to the general profession of 
religious principles and the right of all Christians to toleration in the 
exercise of their worship. This book is the first complete and system- 
atic defence of the great principle of religious toleration ; and in it 
Taj'lor shows how contrary it is, not only to the spirit of Christianity 
but even to the true interests of Government, to interfere with the pro- 
fession and practice of religious sects. Of course, the argument, 
though of universal application, was intended by Taylor to secure in- 
dulgence for what had once been the dominant Church of England, but 
which was now proscribed and persecuted by the r-ampant violence of 
the sectarians. An Apology for Fixed and Set Forms of Worship was 
an elaborate defence of the noble ritual of the Anglican Church. 
Among his works of a disciplinary and practical tendency I may men--, 
tion his Life of Christy the Great Exemplar, in which the details scat- 
tered thi'ough the Evangelists and the Fathers are co-ordinated in a 
continuous narrative. But the most popular of Taylor's writings are 
the two admirable treatises 0?i the Rule and Exercise of Holy Living-, 
and On the Rule and Exercise of Holy Dying, which mutually cor- 
respond to and complete each other, and which form an Institute of 
Christian life and conduct, adapted to every conceivable circumstance 
and relation of human existence. This devotional work has enjoyed 
in England a popularity somewhat similar to that of the Imitation of 
Jesus Christ among Catholics ; a popularity it deserves for a similar 
eloquence and unction. The least admirable of his numerous writings, 
and the only one in which he derogated from his usual tone of courtesy 
and fairness, was his Ductor Dubitantium, a treatise of questions of 
casuistry. His Sermons are very numerous, and are among the most 
eloquent, learned, and powerful that the whole range of Protestant — 
naj^, the whole range of Christian — literature has produced. As in 
his character, so in his writings, Taylor is the ideal of an Anglican 
pastor. Our Church itself being a middle term or compromise between 
the gorgeous formalism of Catholicism and the narrow fanaticism o^ 



A. D. 161:^-1667.] JEREMY TAYLOR. 183 

Calvinistic theology, so our great ecclesiastic writers exhibit the union 
of consummate learning with practical simplicity and fervor. 

§ 6. Taylor's style, though occasionally overcharged with erudition 
and marked by that abuse of quotation which disfigures a great deal 
of the prose of that age, is unifoi-mly magnificent. The materials are 
drawn from the whole range of profane as well as sacred literature, and 
are fused together into a rich and gorgeous unity by the fire of an 
unequalled imagination. No prose is more melodious than that of this 
great writer; his periods, though often immeasurably long, and evolv- 
ing, in a series of subordinate clauses and illustrations, a train of 
images#and comparisons, one springing out of another, roll on with a 
soft yet mighty swell, which has often something of the enchantment 
of verse. He has been called by the critic Jeffrey, "the most Shak- 
spearian of our great divines ; " but it would be more appropriate to 
compare him with Spenser. He has the same pictorial fancy, the same 
voluplupus and languishing harmony; but if he can in any respect be 
likened to Shakspeare, it is firstly in the vividness of intellect which 
leads him to follow, digressivelj^ the numberless secondary ideas that 
spring up as he writes, and often lead him apparently far away from 
his point of departure, and, secondl}^, the preference he shows for draw- 
ing his illustrations from the simplest and most familiar objects, from 
the opening rose, the infant streamlet, " the little rings and wanton 
tendrils of the vine," the morning song of the soaring lark, or the 
"fair cheeks and full eyes of childhood." Like Shakspeare, too, he 
knows how to paint the terrible and the sublime no less than the 
tender and the affecting; and his description of the horrors of the 
Judgment-Day is no less powerful than his exquisite portraiture of 
married love. Nevertheless, with Spenser's sweetness he has occasion- 
ally something of the luscious and enervate languor of Spenser's stj'le. 
He had studied the Fathers so intensely that he had become infected 
with something of that lavish and Oriental imagery which many of 
those great writers exhibited — many of whom, it should be remem- 
bered, were Orientals, not only in their style, but in their origin. Tak- 
ing his personal character and his writings together, Jeremy Taylor 
may be called the English Fenelon ; but in venturing to make this 
parallel, we must not forget that each of these excellent writers and 
admirable men possessed the characteristic features of his respective 
country : if Fenelon's productions, like those of Taylor's, are distin- 
guished by their sweetness, that sweetness is allied in the former to the 
neat, clear, precise expression which the French literature derives not 
only from the classical origin of the language, but from the antique 
writers who have always been set up as models for French imitation ; 
while Jeremy Taylor, with a sweetness not inferior, owes that quality to 
the same rich and poetic susceptibility to natural beauty that gives such 
a matchless coloring to the English poetry of the sixteenth and seven- 
ieenth centuries. 

§ 7. Having thus given a rapid sketch of some of the great figures 
whose genius adorned the Church, it may complete our view of the 



184 THEOLOGICAL WRITERS. [Oh^p. k". 

religious aspect of that time to mention some of the more remarkable 
men who appeared in the opposing party. The greatest names among 
the latter class — Milton and Bunj^an — will be discussed in subsequent 
chapters ; but a few words may now be added respecting the excellent 
Baxter and the fanatical founder of the sect of the Quakers, George 
Fox, together with his more cultivated, yet not less earnest, follower 
William Penn, and Barclay, who defended with the arms of learning 
and argument a system originally founded by half-frantic enthusiasm. 

Richard Baxter (1615-1691) was during nearly the whole of his 
long life the victim of unrelenting persecution. Few authors have 
been so prolific as he ; the multitude of his tracts and religiou* works 
almost defies computation. He was the consistent and unconquerable 
defender of the right of religious liberty;* and in those evil days when 
James II. endeavored forcibly to re-establish the Roman Catholic 
religion in England, Baxter was exposed to all the virulence and bru- 
tality of the infamous Jeftries and his worse than inquisitorial tribunal. 
He was a man of vast learning, the purest piety, and the most indefatiga- i^. 
ble industry. In prison, in extreme poverty, chased like a hunted beast, ^ 
suffering from a weak constitution and a painful and incurable disease, -r-^ 
this meek yet imconquerable spirit still fought his fight, pouring forth ^ 
book after book in favor of free worship, and opposing the quiet suf- 
ferance of a primitive martyr to the rage and tyranny of the persecu- 
tor. His works, which have little to recommend them to a modern 
reader but the truly evangelical spirit of toleration which they breathe, 
are little known in the present day, with the exception of the Saints' ._, 
Eveylasti7iir Resf, and A Call to the Unconverted. 

George Fox (1624-1690), the founder of the Qiiaker sect, was a man 
born in the humblest rank of life in 1624, and so completely without 
education that his numerous Avritings are filled with unintelligible gib- 
berish, and in many instances, even after having been revised and put 
in order by disciples possessed of education, it is hardly possible, through 
the mist of ungrammatical and incoherent declamation, to make out 
the drift of the avithbr's argument. The life of Fox was like that of 
many other ignorant enthusiasts ; believing himself the object of a 
special supernatural call from God, he retired from human companion- 
ship, and lived for some time in a hollow tree, clothed in a leathern 
dress which he had made with his own hands. Wandering about the 
country to preach his doctrines, the principal of which were a denial of 
all titles of respect, and a kind of quietism combined with hostility not 
only to all formal clerical functions and establishments, but even to all 
institutions of governm.ent, he met with constant and furious persecu- 
tion at the hands of the clergy, the country magistrates, and the rab- 
ble, whose manners were, of course, much more brutal than in the 
present day. He has left curious records of his own adventures, and 
in particular of two interviews with Cromwell, upon whose mind the 
earnestness an*^ ;,incerity of the poor Q^iaker seemed to have produced 
an impression honorable to the goodness of the Protector's heart. 
Fox's claims to the gift of prophecy and to the power of detecting 



A. D. 1644-1 7iS.] PENN. BARCLAY. 185 

witches bear witness at once to his ignorance and simplicity, and to the 
universal prevalence of gross superstition ; but we cannot deny to him 
the praise of ardent faith, deep, if unenlightened, benevolence, and a 
truly Christian spirit of patience under insults and injuries. * 

William Penn (1644-1718), the founder of the colony of Pennsyl- 
vania, played a very active and not always very honorable part at the 
court of James II. when that prince, under a transparent pretext of 
zeal for religious liberty, was endeavoring, by giving privileges to the 
dissenting and nonconformist sects, to shake the power and influence of 
the Protestant Church, and thus to pave the way for the execution of 
his darling scheme, the re-establishment of Romanism in England. 
Penn was a man of good birth and academical education, but early 
adopted the doctrines of the Qiiakers. His name will ever be respec- 
table for the benevolence and wisdom he exhibited in founding that 
colony which was afterwards destined to become a wealthy and enlight- 
ened state, and in the excellent and humane precepts he gave for the 
conduct of relations between the first settlers and the Indian aborigines. 
The sect of Qiiakers has always been conspicuous for peaceable beha- 
vior, practical good sense, and much acuteness in worldly matters. 
Their principles forbidding them to take any part in warfare, and 
excluding them from almost all occupations but those of trade and 
commerce, they have generally been thriving and rich, and their num- 
bers being small they have been able to carry out those excellent and 
well-considered plans for mutual help and support which have made 
their charitable institutions the admiration of all philanthropists. 

Robert Barclay (1648-1690) was a Scottish country-gentleman of 
considerable attainments, who published a systematic defence of the 
doctrines of the sect founded by the ruc}^ zeal of Fox. His celebrated 
Apology for the Quakers was published, originally in Latin, in 1676. 
16* 



186 



NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS, 



[CriAP. X. 



NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 



OTHER THEOLOGICA.Ti AND MORAL 
WRITERS. 

JosErn Hall (1574^1650), Bishop of Norwich, 
vchose satires have been already mentioned (p. 83), 
was also a distinguished theological writer. Ills 
Contemplations and his Art of Divine Meditation 
arc the most celebrated of his works. As a devo- 
tional writer he is second only to Jeremy Taylor. 

ROBEET Sandeeson (1587-1GG3), Bishop of 
Salisbury, one of the most celebrated of the High- 
Church Divines, wrote works on casuistry, and 
Bcrnions distinguished by great learning. 

Owen Feltuam (circa 1610-1677) lived in the 
house of the Earl of Tliomond. His work entitled 
Resolves, Divine, Moral, and Political, was first 
published in 1628, and enjoyed great popularity 
for many years. But Mr. Ilallam's judgment is that 
" Feltham is not only a labored and artiiicial, but a 
shallow writer." He owed much of his popularity 
to a pointed and sententious style. 

SiE Thomas Oveeuuky (1581-1613), who was 
poisoned in the Tower in the reign of James I., 
wrote a work entitled Characters, which displays 
skill in the delineation of character. His descrip- 
tion of the Fair and happy Milkmaid has been often 
quoted, and is one of the best of his characters. He 
also wrote two didactic poems entitled The Wife 
and the Choice of a Wife. 

JOHN Eakle (1601-1665), Bishop of Worcester, 
and afterwards of Salisbury, the reputed author of a 
work, Microcosmography, or a Piece of th^ World 
Discovered, in Essays and Characters, published 
anonymously about 1628. " In some of these short 
characters Earle is worthy of comparison with La 
Bruydre j in others, perhaps the greater part, he has 
contented himself with pictures of ordinary man- 
cers,%uch as the varieties of occupation, rather than 
of intrinsic character, supply. In all, however, we 



find an acute observation and a happy humor of 
expression. The chapter entitled the Sceptic is be it 
known ; it is witty, but an insult throughout on tho 
honest searcher after truth, which could have come 
only from one that was content to take up his own 
opinions for ease or profit. Earle is always gaj' and 
quick to catch the ridiculous, especially that of 
exterior appearances ; his stj-le is short, describing 
well with a few words, but with much of the affected 
quaintness of that age. It is one of those books 
which give us a picturesque idea of the manners of 
our fatliers at a period now become remote, and for 
this reason, were there no other, it would deserve to 
be read." (HaUam.) 

Peteb Heylin (1600-1662), a divine and histo- 
rian, deprived of his preferments by the Parliament, 
was the author of many works, of which the most 
popular was his Microcosmus, or a Description of 
the Great World, first published in 1621. 

JOIIX Selden (1584-1654), one of the most learned 
men of his age, and the author of numerous histor- 
ical and antiquarian works; but the one by which 
he is best known in English literature is his Tahle- 
Talk, published after his death, containing many 
acute sayings, and well worth reading. 

James USSHEE (1581-1056), Archbishop of Ar- 
magh, likewise distinguished for his great learning 
is best known by his chronological work, entitled 
Annals, containing chronological tables of univer- 
sal history from the creation to the time of Ves- 
pasian. The dates in the margin of the authorized 
version of the Bible are taken from Ussher. 

John Gauden (1605-1604), Bishop of Exeter, 
and afterwards of Worcester, was the author of 
Ikon BasilUS, a work professing to be written by 
Charles I. The authorship of this book has been 
the subject of much controversy ; but there can be 
no doubt that it was written by Gauden, who., after 
the Restoration, clauned it as his own. 



A. D. 1608-1674.] JOHN MILTON. 187 

CHAPTER XI. 

JOHN MILTON, A. D. 1608-1674. 

\ 1. John Milton. His early life and education. § 2. Travels in Italy. § Z, 
Returns to England. Espouses the popular party. His Areopagitica. $ 4. 
Made Latin Secretary to the Council of State. His Defensio Populi Anglicani^ 
and other Prose Works. His Tractate of Education. § 5. History of his life 
after the Restoration. His death. § 6. Three periods of Milton's literary 
career. First Period : 1623-1640. Hymn on the Nativity. Comiis. ^ 7. 
Lycidas. § 8. U Allegro and II Penseroso. § 9. Milton's Latin and Italian 
writings. His English Sonnets. § 10. Second Period : 1640-1660. Style 
of his prose writings. § 11. Third Period : 1660-1674. Paradise Lost. 
-Analysis of the poem. Its versification. § 12. Incidents and personages of 
the poem. Conduct and development of the plot. § 13. Paradise Regained. 
§ 14. Samson Agonistes. 

§ 1. Above the seventeenth century towers, in solitary grandeur, the 
sublime figure of John Milton (1608-1674). It will be no easy task to 
give even a cursory sketch of a life so crowded with literary as well as 
political activity; still less easy to appreciate the varied, j^et all incom- 
parable, works in which this mighty genius has embodied its concep- 
tions. He was born, on the 9th December, 1608, in London, and 
was sprung from an ancient and gentle stock. His father, an ardent 
republican, and who sympathized with the Puritan doctrines, had 
quarrelled with his relations, and had taken his own independent part 
in life, embracing the profession of a money-scrivener, in which, by 
industry and unquestioned integrity, he had amassed a considerable 
fortune, so as to be able to retire to a pleasant country-house at Horton, 
near Colne, in Oxfordshire. It was undoubtedly from his father that 
the poet first imbibed his political and religious sympathies, and per- 
haps also something of that lofty, stern, but calm and noble spirit 
which makes his character resemble that of the heroes of ancient story. 
The boy evidently gave indications, from his early childhood, of the 
extraordinary intellectual powers which distinguished him from all 
other men ; and his father, a person of cultured mind, seems to have 
furthered the design of Nature, by setting aside the youthful prophet 
and consecrating him — like Samuel — to the service of the Temple — 
the holy temple of patriotism and literature. Milton enjoyed the rare 
advantage of an education specially training him for the career of 
letters ; and the proud care with which he collected every production of 
nis youthful intelligence, his first verses and his college exercises, shows 
that he was well aware that everything proceeding from his pen, 
"whether prosing or versing," as he says himself, " had certain signs 
Df life in it," and merited preservation. What in other men would 
have been a pardonable vanity, in him was a duty he owed to his own 



188 JOnN MILTON. [Chap. XL 

genius and to posterit}-. He was most carefully educated, first at home, 
then at St. Paul's School, London, Avhence he entered Christ's College, 
Cambridge, jet a child in j^ears, but already a consummate scholar. 
We may conceive with what admiration, even with what awe, must 
have been regarded by his preceptors both in the School and in the 
University the first efforts of his Muse, which, though taking the com- 
monplace form of academical prolusions, exhibit a force of conception, 
a pure majestj^ of thought, and a solemn and orga.i-like music of ver- 
sification that widely separate them from even the matured productions 
of contemporary poets. He left Cambridge in 1632, after taking his 
Master's degree, and there are many allusions in his works which prove 
that the doctrines and discipline of the University at that time con- 
tained much that was distasteful to his haughty and uncontrolled spirit. 
His first attempts in poetry were made as early as his thirteenth year, 
so that he is as striking an instance of precocity as of power of genius; 
and his sublime Hymn 07i the Natiznty, in which may plainly be seen 
all the characteristic features of his intellectual nature, was written, 
as a college exercise, in his twenty-first year. On leaving the Univer- 
sity he resided for about five years at his father's seat at Horton, con- 
tinuing his multifarious studies with unabated and almost excessive 
ardor, and filling his mind with those sweet and simple emanations of 
rural beauty which are so exquisitely reflected in his poetry. His 
studies seem to have embraced the whole circle of human knowledge: 
the literature of every age and of every cultivated language, living and 
dead, gave up all its stores of truth and beauty to his all-embracing 
mind : the most arduous subtleties of philosophy, the loftiest mysteries 
of theological learning, were familiar to him : there is no art, no 
science, no profession with which he was not more or less acquainted; 
and however we rt\3.y wonder at the majesty of his genius, the extent 
of his acquirements is no less astounding. It was during this, probably 
happiest, period of his life that he wrote the more graceful, fanciful, 
and eloquent of his poems, the pastoral drama, or Masque, of Comus, 
the lovely elegy on his friend King entitled Lycidas, and in all proba- 
bility the descriptive gems L' Allegro and II Penseroso, At this epoch 
his mind seems to have exhibited that exquisite susceptibility to all 
refined, courtlj', and noble emotions which is so faithfully reflected in 
these works, emotions not incompatible in him with the severest purity 
'6f sentiment and the loftiest dignity of principle. He was at this time 
eminentlj' beautiful in person, though of a stature scarcely attaining 
the middle size; but he relates with pride that he was remarkable for 
his bodily activity and his address in the use of the sword During the 
whole of his life, indeed, the appearance of the poet was noble, almost 
ideal : his face gradually exchanged a childish, seraphic beauty for the 
lofty expression of sorrow and sublimity which it bore in his blindness 
and old age. When young he was the type of his own angels, when 
old of a prophet, a patriot, and a saint. 

§ 2. In 163S the poet, now about thirty, set out upon his travels on 
the continent — the completion of a perfect education. He visited the 



A. D. 1608-167^.] JOHN MILTON'. 189 

most celebrated cities of Italy, France, and Switzerland; was furnished 
with powerful introductions, and received everywhere with marked 
respect and admiration. "Johannes Miltonus, Anglus," seems to have 
struck the learned and fastidious Italians with unusual astonishment; 
and wherever he went the youthful poet gave proofs, "as the manner 
was," of his profound skill in Italian and Latin verse. He appears 
everywhere to have made acquaintance with all who were most illus- 
trious for learning and genius ; he had an interview with Galileo, 
"then grown old, a prisoner in the Inquisition," and he laid the foun- 
dation of solid friendships with the learned Deodate, originally of an 
illustrious house of Lucca, but now retired, for the free profession of 
Protestant opinions, to Geneva, where he was a celebrated professor 
of theology, and the noble Manso, the distinguished poet and friend 
of poets, who had been the friend of Torquato Tasso, and now — 

"With open arms received one poet more." 

During his residence abroad the young poet gave proofs not only of 
his learning and genius, but also of the ardor of his religious and 
political enthusiasm, so hostile to Catholicism and monarchy; and 
though he had at starting received from the wise diplomatist Wotton 
the prudent recommendation of maintaining "il volto sciolto ed i pen- 
sieri stretti," his anti-papal zeal exposed him at Rome and other 
places to considerable danger, even, it is supposed, of assassination. 
The friendships Milton formed with virtuous and accomplished for- 
eigners were in some degree the suggesting motive for many of his 
Italian and Latin poems ; for in the former language he wrote at least 
as well as the majority of the contemporary poets of any but the first 
class, and in the latter his compositions have never been surpassed by 
any modern writer of Latin verse. 

§ 3. After spending about fifteen months on the continent he was 
abruptly recalled to England by the first mutterings of that social and 
political tempest which was for a time to overthrow the Monarchy and 
the Church. So fervid a patriot and so inveterate an enemy of episco- 
pacy was not likely to remain an inactive spectator of the momentous 
conflict : he threw himself into the struggle with all the ardor of his 
temperament and convictions ; and from this period begins the second 
phase of his many-sided life. His father was dead, and Milton now 
began the career of a vehement and even furious controversialist. He 
was one of the most prolific writers of that agitated time, producing 
works on all the most pressing questions of the day. Chiefly the advo- 
cate of republican principles in the state, he was the most uncom- 
promising enemy of the Episcopal Church. His fortune being small, 
he opened a school in 1640, and among those who had the honor of his 
instructions, only two persons are at all celebrated, his nephews John 
and Charles Phillips, who have contributed some details to the history 
of English Poetry. The commencement of Milton's career as a prose 
writer may be referred to about the year 1641, and it continued almost 
without interruption till the Restoration defeated all his hopes, and 



l&O JOHN MILTON. [Chap. XI. 

left him, in blindness, poverty, and danger, nothing but the proud con- 
sciousness of having done his duty as a good citizen, and the leisure to 
devote the closing ye?.rs of his life to the composition of his sublimest 
poems, the Paradise Lost and the Paradise Regained. 

Milton's first prose writings were directed against the Anglican 
Church Establishment, but he soon took a very active part in agitating 
an important question involving the Law of Divorce. This was sug- 
gested by his own conjugal infelicity. His first marriage was an unfor 
tunate one. In 1643 he was united to Mary Powell, the daughter of a 
spendthrift and ruined country gentleman of strong Royalist sym- 
pathies, to whom Milton's father had lent sums of money which he was 
unable to repay, and who appears to have sacrificed his daughter to an 
unsuitable and unpromising match in order to escape from his embar- 
rassments. Mary Powell, soon disgusted with the austerity of Milton's 
life, fled to her father's house, and was only recalled to the conjugal 
roof by a report that her husband, basing his determination upon the 
Levitical law, was meditating a new marriage with another person. 
The lady was forgiven by her husband, but the remaining years of her 
marriage were probably not happy, though three daughters were the 
fruit of the union. We shall by and by see that Milton was twice 
married after the death of his first wife. The finest of the prose com- 
positions produced at this epoch was the Areopagitica^ an oration 
after the antique model, addressed to the Parliament of England in 
defence of the Liberty of the Press. It is the sublimest pleading that 
any age or country has produced, in favor of the great fundamental 
principle of Freedom of Thought and Opinion. In this, as in many 
other of his prose works, Milton rises to an almost superhuman eleva- 
tion of eloquence. It was published in 1644. About this time he began 
his History of England^ a work which he abandoned quite at its com- 
mencement ; he used the subject merely as a vehicle for attacking the 
abuses of Catholicism and the monastic orders. 

§ 4. In 1649 Milton received the appointment of Latin Secretary to 
the Council of State, a post in which his skill in Latin composition 
was employed in carrying on the diplomatic intercourse between Eng- 
land and other countries, such correspondence being at that time always 
couched in the universally-understood language of ancient Rome; but 
in these duties, probably in consideration of his rapidly-increasing in- 
firmity of sight, were joined with him in his office first Meadowes, and 
afterwards the excellent and accomplished Marvell. The loss of the 
great poet's sight became total in 1662, though the gutta serena which 
caused it had been gradually coming on during ten years. His eyes, 
even from early youth, had been delicate; and in his intense devotion 
to study he had greatly overtasked them. In one of the noblest of his 
Sonnets he alludes, in a strain of lofty self-consciousness and religious 
resignation, to the fact of his loss of sight, which he proudly attributes 
to his having overtasked it in the defence of truth and liberty; and in 
the character of the blinded Samson, he undoubtedly shadows forth his 
own infirmity and his own feelings. 



A. D. 1608-1674.] JOHN MILTON, 191 

Connected with Milton's engagement in the service of the Republican 
Government are passages, both in prose and verse, in which he ex- 
presses his sympathy with the glorious administration and great persona] 
qualities of Cromwell : but his eulogy, though warm and enthusiastic, 
is free from every trace of adulation. He probablj^, though disapprov- 
ing of the despotic and military character of the Protector's rule, gave 
liis adherence to it as the least in a choice of many evils, and pardoned 
some of the unavoidable severities of a revolutionary government, in 
consideration of the great benefits which accompanied, and the patriotic 
spirit which animated it. It made England, for the time, the terror 
of the Continental nations and the representative of the Protestant 
interest. 

Milton's most celebrated controversy was that with Salmasius (de 
Saumaise) on the subject of the right of the English people to make 
war upon, to dethrone, and to decapitate their King, on the ground of 
his attempts to infringe the Constitution in virtue of which he reigned. 
The misfortunes and the tragic death of Charles I. naturally excited in 
the minds of sovereigns at that time something of the same horror and 
alarm ^s the execution of Louis XVI. afterwards spread throughout 
Europe : and the eccentric Christian of Sweden employed de Saumaise, 
one of the most learned men of that day, to write what may be called 
a ponderous Latin pamphlet — for Latin was the language universally 
employed at that time in diplomacy, in controversy, and in science — 
invoking the vengeance of Heaven upon the regicide Parliament of Eng- 
land. Milton replied in his Defensio Popicli A7iglicani, maintaining the 
right and justifying the conduct of his countrymen. His invectives are 
not less violent than those of his antagonist, his Latinity is not less 
elegant, but the controversy is as little honorable to the one as to the 
other combatant. The tone of literary warfare was then coarse and 
ferocious ; and in their vehemence of mutual vituperation these two 
great scholars descend to personal abuse, in which exquisite Latinity 
forms but a poor excuse for brutal violence. 

It would be tiresome to the reader, and inappropriate to a work like 
the present, to give a detailed list of all Milton's Prose writings. Their 
subjects, for the most part, had only a temporary interest; and their 
style, whether Latin or English, generally resembles, in its wonderful 
power, grandeur, and picturesqueness, and in a sort of colossal and 
elaborate involution, that of the writings which I have already men- 
tioned. I may, however, note the Apology for Smectyjnnuus^ in which 
Milton defends the conclusions of that famous pamphlet, the strange 
name of which is a kind of anagram composed of the initials of its five 
authors, the chief of whom was Thomas Young, Milton's deeplv- 
venerated Puritan preceptor, the book called Iconoclastes — or the 
Image-breaker — intended to neutralize the effect of the celebrated 
Icoji Basilike, written by Bishop Gauden in the character of Charles I,, 
in which the piety, resignation, and sufferings of the Royal martyr were 
represented in so lively a manner that this work probably contributed 
more than anything else to excite the public commiseration. Other 



1 9 2 JO EN MIL TON. [Chaf . XI. 

treatises, among which may be mentioned The Reason of Ckurch Gov- 
er7iment Urged against Prelry, A Ready and Easy Way to Establish a 
True Com)non7vealth, sufficiently exhibit in their titles the nature of 
their subjects. What is now iTKDst interesting to us in these controver- 
sial writings of Milton is firstly the astonishing grandeur of eloquence 
to which he occasionally rises in those outbursts of enthusiasm that are 
intermingled with drier matter, and secondly the frequent notices of his 
own personal feelings, studies, and mode of life, which, in his eager- 
ness to defend himself against calumnious attacks on his moral charac- 
ter, he has frequently interspersed. For example, both the Areopagitica 
and his pamphlet against Prelacy, contain a most glorious epitome of 
his studies, his projects, and his literary aspirations. The only work 
that I need particularly mention, besides those already enumerated, is 
his curious Tractate of Education. In this Milton has drawn up a 
beautiful, but entirely Utopian, scheme for remodelling the whole sys- 
tem of training and reducing it to something like the antique pattern. 
Milton proposes the entire abolition of the present system both of 
School and University; he would bring up young men with as much 
attention to physical as to intellectual development, by a mechanism 
borrowed from thQ ptrytaneia of the ancient Greeks, public institutions 
in which instruction should have an encyclopaedic character, and where 
all the arts, trades, and sciences should be taught, so as to produce 
sages, patriots, and soldiers. This treatise was published in 1644. 

§ 5. With the Restoration, in 1660, begins the last, the most gloomy, 
and yet the most glorious period of the great poet's career. That event 
was naturally the signal of distress and persecution to one who by his 
writings had shown himself the most consistent, persevering, and 
formidable enemy of monarchy and episcopacy, and who had attacked, 
with particular vehemence, the character of Charles I. Milton was 
excepted, together with all those who had taken any share in the trial 
and execution of the king, from the general amnesty. He was im- 
prisoned, but liberated after a confinement of some months ; and the 
indulgence with w^hich he was treated may be attributed either to con- 
sideration for his learning, poverty, and blindness, or, perhaps, to the 
intercession of some who knew how to appreciate his virtues and his 
genius. It is said that Sir W. Davenant successfully used his influence 
to spare the aged poet any further persecution. From this period till 
his death he lived in close retirement, busily occupied in the compo- 
sition of Paradise Lost and Paradise Regained. The former of these 
works was finished in 1665, and had been his principal employment 
during about seven j^ears. The companion epic, a work of much 
shorter extent, as w^ell as the noble and pathetic tragedy of Samson Ag- 
onistes, are attributed to the year 1671. On the 8th of November, 1674, 
Milton died, at the age of sixty-six, and was buried in Cripplegate 
churchyard. He had been thrice married, first to Mary Powell, by 
whom he had three daughters, all of whom survived him, and who are 
said to have treated him in his old age with harshness and disrespect/ 
There is a tradition of hie having employed his daughters to read to 



A. D. 1608-1674.] JOHN MILTON. 193 

him and to -write under his dictation, but this is hardly probable, as 
there are documents which prove them to haveifceen ahnost entirely 
without education. His second wife, Katliarine Woodcock, he espoused 
in 1656, and this union, though of short duration, appears to have been 
far better suited than the first ; his wife Katharine died two years after, 
in childbed, and Milton had also the grief of losing his infant. He 
married for the third time at the advanced age of fifty-five, probably 
with a view of obtaining that comfort and care which his helpless state 
so much required. The lady was Elizabeth Minshull, and was much 
younger than the poet, whom she survived. 

§ 6. Milton's literary career divides itself naturally into three gi^eat 
periods — that of his youth, that of his manhood, and that of his old 
age. The first may be roughly stated as extending from 1623 to 1640; 
the second from 1640 to 1660, the date of the Restoration ; and the 
third from the Restoration to the poet's death in 1674. During the first 
of these he produced the principal poetical works marked by a graceful, 
tender character, and on miscellaneous subjects ; during the second he 
was chiefly occupied with his prose controversies ; and in the third we 
see him slowly elaborating the Paradise Lost, the Paradise Regained^ 
and the Samson Agonistes. I will now examine, somewhat more in de- 
tail, the works belonging to each phase of his intellectual development, 
premising only that the first epoch is mainly characterized by grace, 
the second by force and vehemence, and the third by unapproachable 
sublimity. 

In the early, almost boyish productions of Milton's muse — as the 
Verses at a Solejmz Music, the poetical exercises written at school and 
college, the Hymn on the Nativity — no reader can fail to remark that 
this author already exhibits qualities of thought and expression which 
distinguish him from all poets of any age or country. The chief of 
these qualities is a peculiar majesty of conception, combined with con- 
summate though somewhat austere harmony and grace. His poetry 
is like his own Eve — a consummate type of loveliness, uniting the 
severe yet sensuous beauty of classical sculpture with the ideal and 
abstracted elevation of Christian art. In all these works we see a 
scholarship so vast and complete that it would have overwhelmed and 
crushed a power of original conception less mighty than that of Milton, .-n^ 
and a power of original conception that derives a duly subordinate \ 
adornment from the inexhaustible stores of erudition. Above all there 
is visible, in even the least elaborate of Milton's poems, a peculiar . 
solemn weighty melodj'^ of versification that fills and satisfies the ear 
like the billowy sound of a mighty organ. How wonderfully has he, in 
the Hyjnn o?i the Nativity, combined with the pictures of simple rural 
innocence the shepherds sitting ere the break of dawn, the picturesque 
legends connected with the cessation of the Pagan oracles at the period 
of our Lord's incarnation, the pictures of the horrible rites of Moloch 
and Osiris, the grand image of universal peace that then reigned 
throughout the world, with the kings sitting still with " awful eye " of 
expectation, and the glimpse into the unspeakable splendors of heaven, ^ 
17 



194 . JOHN MILTON. [Chap. XI. 

the " helmed cherubim and sworded seraphim harping in loud and 
solemn quire " befor* the throne of the Almighty ! This magnificent 
ode is a fitting prelude to the Paradise Lost. '^'~" 

In mj remarks upon the dramatic literature of the age of Elizabeth 
and James I., I took occasion to speak of that peculiar and exquisitely 
fanciful species of entertainment called the Masque, of which Ben 
Jonson and other poets had produced such delicious examples. It was 
reserved to Milton to equal the great poets who preceded him in the 
elegance and refinement which characterize this kind of half-dramatic, 
half-lj-ric composition, while he far surpassed them in loftiness and 
purity of sentiment. They had exhausted their courtlj' and scholar- 
like fancy in inventing elaborate compliments to some of the most 
worthless and contemptible of princes ; Milton communicated to what 
was originally a mere vehicle for elegant adulation a pure and lofty 
ethical tone that soars into the very empyrean of moral speculation. 
The Masque of Comiis was written to be performed at Lvidlow Castle, 
in the presence of the Earl of Bridgewater, then Governor-General of 
the Welsh Marches, an accomplished nobleman, and one of the most 
powerful personages of the time. His daughter, Lady Alice Egerton, 
and his two sons had lost their way in the woods when walking; and 
out of this simple incident Milton created the most beautiful pastoral 
drama that has liitherto been produced. It was represented by the 
young people who were the heroes of the incident on which it was 
founded, and the other characters were fiJled by Milton's friend, Henry ^- 
Lawes, a composer who had studied in Italy, and who furnished the^ 
graceful music that accompanied its IjTic portions. The characters are v 
few, consisting of the Lady, the two Brothers, Comus (a wicked eqA"^^ 
chanter, the allegorical representative of vicious and sensual pleasure, 
a personage enacted by Lawes), and the Guardian Spirit, disguised as 
a shepherd, which part one pleases one's self in fancying may have 
been filled by the poet. The plot is exceedingly simple, rather lyric 
than dramatic. The delineation of passion forms no part of the poet's 
aim; and perhaps the very abstract and ideal nature of the charac- 
ters — their impersonality, so to say — adds to the intended effect by 
raising the mind of the reader into the pure and ethereal atmosphere 
of philosophical beauty. The dialogues are inexpressibly noble, not 
however as dialogues, for they must rather be regarded as a series of 
exquisite soliloquies setting forth, in pure and musical eloquence, like 
that of Plato, the loftiest abstractions of love and virtue. They have 
the severe and sculptural grace of the Grecian drama, but combined 
with the warmest coloring of natural beauty; for the frequent descrip- 
tions of rural objects possess tlie richness, the accuracy, and the fanci- 
fulness of Fletcher, of Jonson, or of Shakspeare himself. Though the 
dialogue itself be lyrical in its chai-acter, the songs interspersed are of 
consummate melody. For instance, the drinking chorus of Comus's 
rout, the Echo-song, and the admirable passages with which the At- 
tendant Spirit opens and concludes the piece. The general character 
of this production Milton undoubtedly bon^owed from Fletcher's Faiths 



A. D. 1608-1674.] JOHN MILTON. ^ 195 

Jtil Shepherdess, from Jonson's Masques and his delicious fragment of 
a pastoral drama, and probably also from the same Italian sources as 
had suggested to those great poets the general tone and construction 
of the pastoral allegory ; but in elevation, purity, and dignity, if not 
also in exquisite delineation of natural beauty, Milton has surpassed 
Fletcher and Jonson as much as they surpassed Tasso, or as Tasso had 
surpassed Guarini. In a somewhat similar strain to Cotntis, Milton 
composed a fragment entitled Arcades, performed at Harefield before 
the Countess of Derby by different members of that illustrious family. 
In this masque Milton wrote only the poetical portion, the rest of the 
entertainment, as was frequently the case on such occasions, being 
made up of dances, music, and scenic transformations. Though the 
portion contributed by the poet is comparatively inconsiderable, it 
exhibits all his usual characteristics. 

§ 7. The pastoral elegy entitled Lycidas was a tribute of affection £0 
the memory of Milton's friend and fellow-student Edward King, lost at 
sea in a voyage to Ireland, where he was about to vindertake the duties 
of a clergyman. He was a young man of virtue and accomplishments, 
and the pastoral form of elegy was not inappropriate either to symbolize 
early conformity of studies between him and his elegist, or to the pro- 
fession to which he was about to devote himself. In the general tone 
of the poem, and in the irregular and ever-vai-ying music of the verse, 
Milton imitated those Italian models with whose scholarlike and elab- 
orate spirit he was so deeply saturated. The poem is a Canzone, and 
one of which even the greatest poets of Italy might well have been 
proud. Throughout we meet with a mixture of rural description, 
classical and mythological allegory, and theological allusions borrowed 
from the Christian system ; and nothing is more singular than the skill 
with which the poet has combined such apparently discordant elements 
into one harmonious whole. The shock given to the reader's taste by 
this apparent incongruity is in a great measure softened away by the 
abstract and poetical air of the whole, by the art with which the transi- 
tions are managed, and in some degree by the exquisite descriptions of 
natural scenery, flowers, and the famous rivers immortalized by the 
great pastoral poets of antiquity. Nevertheless the ordinary reader is 
somewhat surprised to find St. Peter making his appearance among the 
sea-nj-mphs, and allusions to the corruptions of the Episcopal Church 
and the happiness of just met. made perfect brought into connection 
with the fables of Pagan mytnology. But the force of imagination 
and the exhaustless beauty of imagery which is displayed from the 
beginning to the end make the truly sensitive reader entirely forget 
what are inconsistencies only to the logical reasoning. In this poem 
we see how great was Milton's mastery over the whole scale of melody 
of which the English language is capable. From a solemn and psalm- 
like grandeur to the airiest and most delicate playfulness, every variety 
of music may be found in Lycidas ; and the poet has shown that our 
northern speech, though naturally harsh and rugged, may be made to 
echo the softest melodj of the Italian lyre. 



196} JOHN MILTON'. [Chap. XT. 

§ 8. The tvv'o descriptive poems L' Allegro and II Pcnseroso, as thay 
form a sort of pair of cabinet pictures, the one the complement and 
counterpart of the other, will be most advantageously examined under 
one head. They are of nearly the same length, written in the sa.ne 
metre, and consisting, with the exception of a few longer and irregular 
lines of invocation at the beginning of each, of the short-rhymed octo- 
syllabic measure. In the Allegro the poet describes scenery and variovi^ 
occupations and amusements as contemplated by a man of joyous and 
cheerful temperament; in Wxe Penseroso not dissimilar objects viewed W^T" 

indi.<^.^ 
viduality of the poet is seen in the calm and somewhat grave cheerful- ■^■ 



hy a person of serious, melancholy, and studious character. The indi-^.. 



ness of the one, as well as in the tranquil though not sombre medita- 
tiveness of the other. His joy is without frivolity, as his melancholy 
is without gloom. It would be interesting to compare these two poem.s 
with minute detail, paragraph by paragraph; for every picture, almost 
every phrase, in the one corresponds, with close parallelism, to some- 
thing similar in the other. Thus the beautiful opening lines in whicli 
the poet drives away Melancholy to her congenial dwelling in hell, cor- 
respond to the opening of the Penseroso ; and the invocr.tion to Joy 
and her retinue of Quips and Cranks and wanton Wiles, Sport, Lib- 
erty, and Laughter, forms the pendant to the sublime impersonation of 
Melancholj', which is indeed in poetry what the Night of Michael An- 
gelo is in sculpture. The Cheerful Man is awakened by the lark, the 
cock, and the hunter's horn; and walks out, "by hedge-row elms 
and hillocks green," to see the gorgeous sunrise. The sounds and 
sights of early morning are represented with wonderful beauty and 
reality; and the gradual unfolding of the landscape, under the growing 
radiance of the dawn, is perfectly magical. We then have a charming 
picture of rustic life ; and this is succeeded by a village festival, where 
every line seems to bound responsive to the joyous bells and the sound 
of the rebeck. The day terminates with ghost stories and fairy legends 
related over the " nut-brown ale," round the farm-house fire. Having 
completed the picture of rural pleasures (in which, however, it should 
be remarked, the amusements of the chase forms no part), the poet 
goes on to describe the more courtly and elaborate pastimes of the 
great city — the tourney, the dance, the marriage feast; and the poem 
terminates with one of the most admirable of those many passages 
in which Milton has at once celebrated and exemplified the charms of 
music. Music was his favorite art : he inherited from his father an 
intense love for and no mean skill in it; it was afterwards his best — 
perhaps his highest — consolation in his poverty and blindness; and 
assuredly no poet in any language has shown such a deep sensibility to 
its enchantments. The passage in the Allegro in which he speaks of 
it is the most perfect representation that words have ever given of the 
consummate execution of the highest Italian vocal music. Among the 
pleasures of the city Milton has not forgotten the glories of the stage ; 
and here he pays a compliment to Jonson's " learned sock," and to the 
"wood-notes wild" of Shakspeare. In the Penseroso we have, instead 



A. D. 1608-1074.] JOHN MILTOK 197 

of the walk bj the bright dawn, the conten. illative wandering in the 
moonlit forest; the song of the nightingale, and the solemn sound of 
the curfew " over some wide -watered shore, swinging slow with sullen 
roar;" and the meditation over the glowing embers in some solitary 
chamber. The contemplative man passes the long watches of the 
night in penetrating the sublime mysterfes of philosophy with Plato, 
in studying the solemn scenes of the great dramatists of Greece, in fol- 
lowing the wild and wondrous legends of chivalric tradition and poetry; 
and the daily walk is amid the deep recesses of some fairy-haunted 
forest, where the imagination is filled with the half-seen glories beside 
some stream round which floats a mysterious music. The poem ends 
with an aspiration after an old age of hermit-like repose and contem- 
plation. 

No analysis will give any idea of the immense riches of description 
with which these poems are crowded. There is hardly an aspect of 
external nature, beautiful or sublime, terrible or smiling, which is not 
• expressed here ; sometimes, as is ever the case in poetry of the highest 
order, in an incredibly condensed form. There are many examples of 
a whole picture exhibited in a single word, stamped with one inimitable 
expression, by a single stroke : as, for example, the " dappled dawn ; " 
the cock which " stoutly struts his damas before ; " the sun, at his rising, 
" robed in flames and amber light;" the hill " hoar with the floating 
mists of dawn; " the "fallows gray; " the towers of the ancient manor 
^'•bosomed high in tufted trees; " the '•'' tanned \\'^^yzoQ^^\" the peasants 
" dancing in the chequered shade." In like manner does the Pense- 
roso abound with inimitable examples of picturesque word-painting. 
What a figure is that of INIelancholy ! " all in a robe of darkest grain, 
flowing with majestic train," fixed in holy rapture, till she " forgets 
herself to marble; " and the song of Philomel " smoothing the rugged , 
brow of night ; " " the xvandering moon riding near her highest noon," 
and " stooping ihxQx^^ a fleecy cloud ! " All have seen this : how few 
have embodied it in verse! The glowing embers that "teach light to 
counterfeit a gloom;" or Tragedy '■'■ sweeping by in sceptred pall;" y 
the " iron tears" drawn down the cheek of Pluto by the song of Or- r^ 
pheus ; and "minute drops" falling as the shower passes away; the ^^ 
" high-embowed roof" and " storied windows" of a Gothic cathedral, \ 
with their " dim religious light." What poet has so vividly painted all 
that is most striking in nature and in art.? Be it remembered, too, that 
the strokes so rapidly enumerated are merely examples of happy ex- 
pressions concentrated into a single word. The two poems abound in 
pictures not inferior in beauty to these, but developed at a length which 
precludes my quoting them here. Indeed to quote the beauties of these 
two works would be to transcribe them from beginning to end. The 
Allegro and Penseroso have been justly called not so much poems as 
stores of imagery from which might be drawn materials for volumes 
of picturesque description. Like all Milton's works, admirable as 
they are in themselves, they are a thousand times more valuable for 
their peculiarly suggestive character — filling the mind, by allusion 

17 » 



Vi 



198 JOHN MILTON. [Chap. XI. 

to other images, natural and artificial, with impressions of tendernesa 
or grandeur. 

§ 9. The Latin and Italian productions of Milton may not unsuitably 
be considered in th's place, as their composition belongs principally to -^^ 
the youth of the poet. In the felicity with which he has reproduced yJ 
the diction of classical antiquity, Milton has never had an equal among ^ 
the modern writers of Latin verse. Not even Buchanan, far less such""^ 
authors as Johannes Secundus, has reached a more consummate purity 
of expression, or attained — which is far more difficult — the stj'le of 
^r\WQ^\Q. thought^ and avoided the intrusion of modern ideas. He not 
only writes like Tibullus and Propertius, but he also feels like them : 
'We never meet with the incongruity of modern ideas clumsily masquer- 
ading in classical costume. The Elegies of Milton, however, graceful 
as they are, are less interesting than the E^pistolce addressed to his 
literary friends : as, for example, the exquisite Mansus, and the Latin 
verses to Charles Deodate. These, from their personal and intimate 
character, possess the charm of bringing us nearer to the thoughts, the 
tastes, and the individual occupations of the poet. They are totally 
free from that air of being a cc7ito or ti pasticcio, which is the prevailing 
defect of modern Latin poetry; their author seems always to think and . 
feel as well as to write in the language he employs. In many passages, • 
too, of these poems we see striking examples of that powerful concep- 
tion which distinguishes ISIilton ; as in his verses on the Gunfoivdcr 
Plot there are impersonations which give us a foretaste of the Paradise 
Lost. The Italian poems of Milton are chiefly sonnets, and exhibit 
the same acquaintance with the forms and spirit of that species of com- 
position, though perhaps hardly so much ease as the Latin works. 

As a writer of sonnets it would be unjust to try Milton by any other 
standard than by his English productions in this department. Though 
a few are pla^-ful and almost ludicrous in their subject, the majority 
of the sonnets are of that lofty, grave, and solemn character which 
6eems most congenial to the spirit of Milton. In the universal taste 
for imitating the types of Italian poetry, English writers, almost from 
the beginning of our literature, had cultivated this delicate exotic. ^ 
Sidney, Spenser, Shakspeare, and a host of inferior poets, had written 
sonnets, some of a very high degree of beauty; but it was reserved to 
Milton to transport into his native country the Italian sonnet in its . 
highest form. Macaulay justly observes that Milton's sonnets have / 
none of that enamel-like brilliancy of expression which marks the 
sonnets of Petrarch : they are also free from the cold and pedantic 
conceits, and from that tone of scholastic ingenuitj^ which frequently 
deform the conceptions of the lover of Laura. Milton's sonnets are 
hardly ever on the subject of love; religion, patriotism, domestic affec- 
tion, are his themes; and the great critic I have just quoted has most 
happily compared them to the Collects of the English Liturgy. 
Among the finest of them I may specify the following : I. To tJie NigJit- 
ingale ; VII. and VIII. containing a noble anticipation of his poetical 
glory; XIII. addressed to his friend Lawes, in which Milton at once 



A. D. 1608-1674.] JOHN MIL TO K 199 

describes and exemplifies the sweetness of Italian song; XVI. a noble 
recapitulation of Cromwell's victories ; XVIII. on the Massacre of the 
Piedmoiitdie Pyotestants ; XIX. on his ozvn bli?id?iess., one of the sub- 
limest as well as the most interesting from its personal subject; XX. a 
channing invitation to his friend Lawrence, describing the pleasures 
of an Attic and philosophic festivity. Both Horace and Juvenal have 
similar passages; and I know not whether Milton, though infinitelj* 
more concise, has not described more beautifully than thej the unbend- 
ing of a wise and cultivated mind. The XXIId. sonnet is on the same c^ 
subject as the XlXth., and the poet has treated his blindness in a no • 
less awful spirit of religious resignation mingled with patriotic pride. 
In the XXIIId. sonnet, which in spirit is not unlike many passages in 
the Vita Nuova of Dante, and will Ailly bear a comparison with the 
famous Levommi il mio Pensier of Petrarch, the poet describes a * 
dream in which he saw in a vision his second wife, whose death he so 
deeply deplored. 

§ 10. The second period of Milton's literary life is filled with politi- 
cal and religious controversy. In the very voluminous prose works 
belonging to this epoch we see at once the ardor of his convictions, the 
loftiness of his personal character, and the force and grandeur of his 
genius. Those who are unacquainted with his prose works are utterly 
incapable of forming an idea of the entire personality of Milton. 
Whether written in Latin or in English, these productions bear the 
stamp of his mind. They are crowded with vast and abstruse eitidi- 
tion ; and the learning is, as it Avere, fused into a burning mass by the 
fervor of enthusiasm. The prose stjie of Milton is remarkable for a 
weighty and ornate magnificence, which in any other hands would be 
cumbrous and pedantic, but under the burden of which he moves with 
as much ease as did the champions of the Round Table under their 
ponderous panoply. When lashed to anger by the calumnies directed 
against the pui-ity of his personal life, he gives us, in majestic eloquence, 
a picture of his own studies, labors, and literary aspirations, interest- 
ing in themselves, and striking from the beauty of the language. Glo- \^^ 
rious bursts of piety and patriotism, "a sevenfold chorus of halleluiaar^^'^ 
and harping symphonies," show him ever and anon rising to a super- V'^; 
human height. No style presents so hopeless a subject for imitation 
as that of Milton's prose. The immense length and involution of the 
sentences, its solemn, and stately march, defy all mimicry; conse- 
quently there is no style so characteristic of its author — none which 
so completely stands alone in literature. Even when writing English, 
Milton seems to think in Latin. His frequent inversions, and his gen- 
eral preference for words of Latin origin, contribute to make him in 
some respects the most Roman of all English authors. This quality, 
however, while it testifies to his learning and, his originality, has 
undoubtedly tended to exclude Milton's prose writings from that place 
among the popularly-read English classics to which their eloquence 
undoubtedly entitles them. There is no doubt that they are becoming 
every day better known to the general reader, and that their popularity 



200 JOHN FULTON-. [Chap. XI. 

is certain to extend still farther. The finest of them, at least the most 
calculated to attract the notice of the literary student, are the Areopa- 
gltica^ the Dcfensio Seamda, the Defcnsio Populi Anglicani^ ttie Reasons 
of Church Government urged against Prclaty, the Apology for Smec- 
ty})i)iuus, and the Tractate on Education. 

§ 11. There is no spectacle in the history of literature more touching 
and sublime than Milton blind, poor, persecuted, and alone, "fallen 
upon evil days and evil tongues, with dangers and with darkness com- 
passed round," retiring into obscurity to compose those immortal Epics 
which have placed him among the greatest poets of all time. The 
calm confidence with which he approached his task was the fruit of 
long meditation, profound study, and fei-vent prayer. The four great 
Epic Evangelists, if we may so call them -without irreverence, respec- 
tively sj-mbolize the four great phases of the history of mankind. \ 
Homer is the poetical representative of the boyhood of the human race^ -^fc^ 
Virgil of its manhood. These two typify the glory and the greatness s ^"^ 
of the antique world, as exhibited under its two most splendid form.s — ' 
the heroic age in Greece, and the majesty of Roman empii-e. Chris- . • 
tianity is the culminating fact in the history of mankind : it is like the \ ' 
mountain ridge from which diverge two rivers running in opposite 
directions. As the antique world produced two great epic types, so 
did Christianity — Dante and Milton. Dante represents the poetical 
side of Catjiolic, Miltonof Protestant Christianity ; Dante its infancj', its 
age of faith and heroism; Milton its virile age, its full development and 
exaltation. Dante is the Christian Homer, Milton the Christian Virgil. 
If the predominant character of Homer be vivid life and force, and of 
Virgil majesty and grace, that of Dante is intensity, that of Milton is 
sublimity. Even in the mode of representing their creations a strong 
contrast may be perceived : Dante produces liis effect by realizing the 
ideal, Milton by idealizing the real. 

The Paradise Lost was originally composed in ten Books or Cantos, 
which vv-ere afterwards so divided as to make twelve. Its composition, 
though the work was probably meditated long before, occupied about 
seven years; that is, from 1658 to 1665. I v/ill give a rapid analysis of 
the poem, condensed from Milton's own plan prefixed to the various 

t cantos. In Book /., after the proposition of the subject, the Fall of 
Man, and a sublime invocation, are described the council of Satan and 
'^ the infernal angels, their determination to oppose the designs of God 
%«- in the creation of the Earth and the innocence of our first parents, and 
the description of the erection of Pandemonium, the palace of Satan. 
Book II. describes the debates of the evil spirits, the consent of Satan 
to undertake the enterprise of temptation, his journey to the Gates of 
Hell, which he finds guarded by Sin and Death. Book III. transports 
us to Heaven, where, after a dialogue between God the Father and 
God the Son, the latter offers himself as a propitiation for the foreseen * 
disobedience of Adam. In the latter portion of this canto Satan meets 
Uriel, the angel of the Sun, and inquires the road to the new-created 
Earth, where, disguised as an angel of light, he descends. Book IV, 



A. D. 1608-1674.] JOHN MILTON. 201 

brin,s:s Satan to the sight of Paradise, and contains the picture of the 
innocence and happiness of Adam and Eve. The angels set a guard 
over Eden,' and Satan is arrested while endeavoring to tempt Eve in a 
dream. He is, however, allowed to escape. In Book V. Eve relates 
her dream to Adam, who comforts her; and they, after their morning 
prayer, proceed to their daily employment. They are visited by the 
angel Raphael, sent to warn them ; and he relates to Adam the story 
of the revolt of Satan and the disobedient angels. In Book VI. the 
narrative of Raphael is continued, and the triumph of the Son over the 
rebellious spirits. Book VII. is devoted to the account given by Ra- 
phael, at Adam's request, of the creation of the world. In Book VIII. 
is pursued the conference between the angel and Adam, who describes 
his own state and recollections, his meeting with Eve, and their union. 
The action of Book IX. is the temptation first of Eve, and then, 
through her, of Adam. Book X. contains the judgment and sentence, 
by the Son, of Adam and Eve, who are instructed to clothe themselves. 
Satan, triumphant, returns to Pandemonium, but not before Sin and 
Death construct a causeway through Chaos to Earth. Satan recounts 
his success, but Ls with all his angels transformed into serpents. Adam 
and Eve bewail their fault, and determine to implore pardon. Book 
XI. relates the acceptance of Adam's repentance by the Almighty, 
who, however, commands him to be expelled from Paradise. The 
angel Michael is sent to reveal to Adam the consequences of his trans- 
gression. Eve laments her exile from Eden, and Michael shows Adam 
in a vision the destiny of man before the Flood. Book XII. continues 
the prophetic picture shown to Adam by Michael of the fate of the 
human race from the flood. Adam is comforted by the account of the 
Redemption and rehabilitation of man, and by the destinies of the 
Church. The poem terminates with the wandering forth of our first 
par&nts from Paradise.^ 

The peculiar form of blank verse in which this poem, as well as the 
Paradise Regained^ is wi-itten, was, if not absolutely invented by Mil- 
ton, at least first employed by him in the narrative or epic form of 
poetry. Though consisting mechanically of precisely the same ele- 
ments as the dramatic metre employed by Shakspeare and his contem- 
poraries, this kind of verse acquires, in the hand of Milton, a music of 
a totally different tone and I'hythm. It is exceedingly solemn, digni- 
fied, and varied with such inexhaustible flexibility that the reader will 
hardly ever be able to find two verses of similar structure and accentu- 
a:ion — at least except at a considerable distance from each other. 
Every modification of metrical foot, every conceivable combination of 
emphasis, is employed to vary the harmony; and in this respect Milton 
has given to his metrical structure an ever-changing cadence, as beauti- 
ful in itself, and as delicately responsive to the impressions required to 
be conveyed, as can be found in the multitudinous billow-like harmonies 
of the Homeric hexameter, whose regular yet varied cadence has been 
so well compared to the roll of the ocean. 

§ 12. In the incidents and personages of the poem we find extreme 



202 JOHN MILTON. [Chap. XI. 

simplicity united with the richest complexity and inventiveness. Where 
it suited his purpose, Milton closely followed the severe condensation 
of the scriptural narrative, where the whole history of primitive man- 
kind is related in a few sentences ; and where his subject required him 
to give a loose to his invention, he showed that no poet ever surpassed 
him in fertility of conception. The description of the fallen angels, 
the splendors of Heaven, the horrors of Hell, the ideal yet natural love- 
liness of Paradise, exhibits not only a perception of all that is awful, 
sublime, or attractive in landscape and natural phenomena, but the 
power of overstepping the bounds of our earthly experience, and so 
realizing scenes of superhuman beauty or horror, that they are pre- 
sented to the reader's eye with a vividness rivalling that of the memory 
itself. The characters introduced, the Deity and His celestial host, 
Satan and his infernal followers, and, perhaps, above all the ideal and 
heroic, yet intensely human personages of our first Parents in their 
state of innocence, bear witness alike to the fertility of Milton's inven- 
tion, the severity of his taste, and the loftiness of what we may style 
his artistic morality. In Dante and Tasso the evil spirits, powerfully 
and picturesquely as they may be described, are composed of the com- 
mon elements of popular superstition : they are monsters and bugbears, 
with horns, and tails, and eyes of glowing braise : and in their action 
we see nothing but savage malignity exaggerated to colossal propor- 
tions. Milton's Satan is no caricature of the popular demon of vulgar 
superstition : he is not less than Archangel, though archangel ruined ; 
and in him, as well as in his attendant spirits, the poet has given sub- 
limity as well as variety to his infernal agencies, by investing them 
with the most lofty or terrible attributes of the divinities of classical 
mythology. In employing this artifice he was able to pour out upon 
this department of his subject all the wealth of his incomparable learn- 
ing, and to make his descriptions as suggestive as they are beautiful. 
Indeed, the mode by which he impresses the imagination is partly 
derived from the power, grandeur, and completeness of his own con- 
ceptions, and partly by the indirect allusions wherein his subsidiary 
illustrations revive in our minds all the impressions left in them by 
natural beauty, by the finest passages of other poets, and by all that is 
most striking in art, in history, and in legend. Milton is pre-emi- 
nently the poet of the learned ; for however imposing may be his pic- 
tures even to the most uncultivated intellect, it is only to a reader 
familiar with a large extent of classical and Biblical reading that he 
displays his full powers. Of him may be eminently said that " he who 
reads, and to his reading brings not" a spirit, if not equal yet trained 
at least in somewhat similar discipline as his own, the half of his beau- 
ties will be imperceptible. In the personages and characters of Adam 
and Eve he has solved perhaps the most difficult problem presented by 
his undertaking — that of representing two human beings in a position 
which no other human beings ever did or ever can occupy; and en- 
dowed with such feelings and sentiments as they alone could have 
experienced. They are beings worthy of the Paradise they inhabit; 



A. D. 1608-1674.] JOHN MILTON. 203 

and though raised to heroic and ideal proportions, their moral and 
intellectual qualities are such as we can understand and consequently 
sympathize with. There is nothing more admirable than the intense 
humanity with which Milton has clothed them ; while at the same time 
they are truly ideal impersonations of love, innocence, and worship. 
Like the finest relics of ancient sculpture, or the consummate works of 
early Italian j^ainting, they reach the full majesty of the divine without 
forfeiting the huinan and the real. 

In the conduct and development of the plot of his poem Milton unites 
the merits of simplicity and complexity. He follows closely, when it 
suits his purpose, the severe concision of the Biblical narrative, and at 
the same time gives a loose to his mighty invention in the scenes of 
Hell, of Heaven, and particularly in the episodical description of the 
revolt and punishment of the Fallen Angels. It has been objected that 
Adam is only the nominal hero o{ Paradise Lost, and that the real pro- 
tagonist is Satan ; and it is certainly true that the necessarily inferior 
nature of man, as compared with the tremendous agencies of which he 
is the sport, reduces him, apparently at least, to a secondary part in the 
drama; but this difficulty is surmounted by the dignity and moral ele- 
vation which Milton has given to his human personages, and by his 
making them the central pivot round which revolves the whole action. 
To speak of particular passages, either of sentiment or description, in 
which Milton exhibits beauty or sublimity, would be quite inappropriate 
in an essay whose limits are confined : I may remark, that in every 
instance where his imagination and plastic power are seen at work, we 
find him at once soaring from the sensible into the abstract. 

If the genius of Dante be eminently analytic, that of Milton is as 
obviously synthetic : where the former takes captive your credulity by 
the intense realization — often attained by the most matter-of-fact 
details of measurement or comparison — of the awful objects which he 
sets, as it were, before your bodily eye, the latter hurries your imagina- 
tion into the realms of the ideal by suggesting what you dimly conceive 
rather than have ever seen. Thus in a somewhat parallel passage of 
the two poets, Dante, wishing to convey the conception of the size of a 
monstrous giant, gives you an exact measurement of some of its parts, 
and compares them to some well-known and familiar object; IVIilton, 
on the other hand, makes the giant bulk of the thunder-smitten demon 
lie extended " many a rood " upon the burning billows, and instantly 
goes off into picturesque details of the "small night- foundered skiff"" 
moored to the scaly rind of the whale to which Satan is compared : or 
again, in that passage of unequalled grandeur where the evil spirit 
defies the archangel who has detected him : — 

" On the other side, Satan, alarmed, 
Collecting all his might, dilated stood, 
Like Teneriffe or Atlas, unremoved. 
His stature reached the sky, and on his crest 
Sat horror plumed." 

The whole poem is crowded with similar examples of the idealizing 



204 JOHN MILTON. [Chap. Xr 

tendency, which no poet ever possessed in an equal degree, and which 
is alwajs united with Milton's peculiar taste for illustrating his pictures 
by means of subsidiary allusions suggesting the finest and most impos- 
ing objects in art, in legend, in nature, and in poetry. 

§ 13. The companion-poem to the great Epic, the Odyssey to the 
Christian Iliad, is the Paradise Regamed. It is much shorter than the 
first work, and consists of only Four Books or Cantos. The subject is 
the Temptation of Christ by Satan in the Wilderness ; and the poet has 
closely followed the narrative of that incident, as recorded in the fourth 
chapter of St. Matthew's Gospel. It is, however, evident that the only 
event comparable in importance to the Fall of Man was the Redemption 
of Man through the voluntary sacrifice of the Saviour; and that the 
Cross is the natural counterpart to the Tree of the Knowledge of Good 
and Evil ; Calvary the true pendant to Eden. It is uncertain whether 
to attribute to advanced age or the consciousness of failing powers 
Milton's selection for the subject of his second epic, of an event in the 
history of Our Lord which, however important in itself, is unquestion- 
ably far less momentous than the consummation oi the great act of 
human redemption. Some have ascribed this choice to certain modifi- 
cations of belief experienced by the poet in the decline of life, and 
which prevented him from selecting the Crucifixion as a subject. Into 
this mysterious question it would be misplaced to enter here ; I will 
content mj^self with noting that the universal consent of readers places 
the Paradise Regaitied, in point of interest and variety, very far below 
the Paradise Lost. The inferiority of interest is, of course, attributable 
to its want of action ; the whole poem being occupied with the argu- 
ments carried on between Christ and the Tempter, and the description 
of the kingdoms of the earth as contemplated from the summit of the 
mountain. Even in Paradise Lost the long and sublime dialogues, 
frequently turning on the most arduous subtleties of theology, though 
they probably enjoyed a great popularity in Milton's own day, when 
such subjects formed topics of universal discussion, are now often found 
to be tedious ; but in that poem they are relieved by the perpetual inter- 
ference of action. In Paradise Regained the genius of Milton appears 
in its ripest and completest development : the self-restraint of consum- 
mate art is everywhere apparent; and in the descriptions of Rome, 
Athens, Babylon, and the state of society and knowledge, the great poet 
has reached a height of solemn grandeur which shows him to have 
lost nothing either of imagination or of learning. Nevertheless the 
effect of the poem upon the general reader is less powerful than that of 
Paradise Lost. A rapid analysis of the poem would be as follows : — 
Book I. After being baptized, Jesus ofiers to undertake the defeat of the 
plans meditated by Satan. He retires into the wilderness. Satan ap- 
pears under the disguise of an old peasant, and endeavors to justify 
himself. Book II. contains a consultation of the evil spirits, after 
which Satan tempts Our Lord with a banquet and afterwards with 
riches. In Book ILL Satan pursues his attempts, endeavoring to excite 
ambition in the mind of the Saviour, and shovv's him the kingdoms of 



Chap. XL] NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS.^ 205 

Asia. Book IV. exhibits the greatness of Rome and the intellectual 
glories of Athens ; and Our Lord, after being conveyed back to the 
desert, is exposed to a pitiless storm ; Satan again appears, and, after 
carrying him to the pinnacle of the Temple, is again defeated and 
reduced to silence. The poem terminates with a triumphant hymn of 
the angels ministering to our Lord after His fast. In grandeur, ele- 
vation, and a kind of subdued sentiment, the Paradise Regai7icd in no 
sense fields to its immortal companion ; but in brilliancy of coloring 
and intensity of interest it is inferior. It may be said that the beauties 
of Paradise Regained v/ill generally be more perceptible as the reader 
advances in life, and to those minds in which the contemplative faculty 
is more developed than the imagination. 

§ 14. To this, the closing period of Milton's literary career, belongs 
the Tragedy of Samson Agonisies, constructed according to the strictest 
rules of the Greek classical drama. In the character of the hero, his 
blindness, his sufferings, and his resignation to the will of God, Milton 
has given a most touching embodiment of himself. As in the Greek 
tragedies, the action is simple, the persons few, the statuesque severity 
of the dialogue is relieved by majestic outbursts of lyric verse placed in 
the mouth of the Chorus, and the catastrophe, which could not be 
represented worthilj^ on the stage, is, after the Greek fashion, related 
by a messenger. The whole piece breathes the somewhat harsh but 
lofty patriotism and religion of the Old Testament, and the lyric- 
choruses are sometimes inexpressibly sublime. So closely has Milton 
copied all the details, literary as well as mechanical, of the ancient 
dramas, that there is no exaggeration in saying that a modern reader 
will obtain a more exact impression of what a Greek tragedy was, from 
the study of Sajnson Agonisies, than from the most faithful translation 
of Sophocles or Euripides. The ancient tragedies had alwaj^s a reli- 
gious or mythological element; and the Biblical character, for us, has 
a sanctity like that of the heroic legends for a Greek ; and therefore 
Samson is to us a personage not dissimilar to what Prometheus or 
Hercules would have been to a Greek. 



NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 



CONTEMPORARIES OF MILTON. 

Closely connected, principally in a political, but 
in some degree also in a literary relation, with ]Mil- 
ton, is the truly venerable name of Andkew Mak- 
VKLL (1G20-1678). He was born in 1620, educated at 
Cambridge, and employed the earlier part of his 
life in the diplomatic service, having been for some 
time attached to the English embassy at Constanti- 
nople. He afterwards gave instruction in the family 
of Fairfax, and was recommended by Milton to the 
President Bradshaw as a person very fit to be joined 



Secretary. This appointment he obtained, though 
not till some time after, in 1G57 ; and Marvell appears 
to have all along entertained the strongest admira- 
tion for his great colleague ; an admiration founded 
on community of taste as well as conformity in 
political and religious opinions. Not long before 
the Restoration Marvell »was sent to the House of 
Commons as representative for the town of ifull, 
and down to his death, in 1G78, he continued to fulfil 
the duties of a good patriot and an lionest man. 
Many striking anecdotes are related of his incor- 
ruptible integrity', of the constancy with which he 



■witli himself in the executiou of his office of Latin i resisted both the menaces and the caresses of the 

i8 



206 



NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS, [Chap. XII. 



Court, of whose arbitrary proceedings he was a vig- 
orous opponent. But though many of these stories 
do not rest upon very good authority, their general 
similarity proves the character he enjoyed not only 
for virtue but for a pleasant and festive wit. He is 
said not to have been eloquent, but to have been 
listened to by all parties with respect; and his char- 
acter seems to have conspicuously combined the 
severest rectitude with good nature and intelligence. 
He took an active part in the controversies of the 
day, and in several pamphlets powerfully denounced 
the arbitrary and papistical tendencies of the gov- 
ernment. His works contain many interesting 
details of his long and familiar intercourse with 
Milton. He also deserves an honorable place among 
the minor poets of his time. His Lamentation of 
the Xijivph on the Death of her Fawn, his song of 
The Eniigranta (the Puritan exiles) to Bermuda, 
his Thoughts in a Garden, are full of sweet and 
pleasant fancies, and exhibit a great delicacy of ex- 
pression, often exquisite from its very quaintness ; 
as, for example, where he represents the oranges 
hanging in the tropic shade " like golden lamps in 
a green light," or, again, the fawn which " trod as 
if on the four winds," a most delicate hyperbole. 
In his satirical verses on the Dutch he has a droll 
exaggeration and ingenious buffoonery; many of 
the ideas are worthy of the quaint and learned 
fancy of Butler. It is difficult to find a more com- 
plete contrast than that presented by the conduct of 
Mar\'ell as compared with that of Waller. They 
were both men of rare attainments ; but while Mar- 
vell will always remain the type of the honest, in- 
corruptible politician, faithful to his convictions, 
and the warm advocate of liberty and toleration. 
Waller is the ideal of the cowardly and selfish time- 
server. 

Another political writer of this period is James 
Hakeington (I6H-1677), the author of the once 
famous republican theory embodied in the Oceana, 
which may be regarded as forming the counterpart 
to Ilobbes's monarchical scheme of the Leviathan. 
He was learnedly brought up at Oxford, where he is 
said to have been the disciple of Chillingworth, and 
for a long time resided abroad in the diplomatic 
service, being at various times attached to the lega- 
tions in Holland, Denmark, the Hague, and Venice. 
He was appointed one of the attendants upon King 
Charles I., when that unfortunate prince was a pris- 
oner in the hands of the Parliament in I&17 ; and 
succeeded in inspiring the captive sovereign with 
feelings of confidence and attachment. He himself 
felt strong admiration for those high qualities of 
patience and magnanimity which misfortune devel- 
oped in Charles's character. His great work, the 
Oceana, was published in 1356. It contains an 
elaborate project for the establishment of a pure 
republic upon philosophical principles, carried out 
to those minute details which are so frequently met 
•rtth in paper constitutions, and which are so iui- 



practicable when attempted to be put in actual exe- 
cution. His organization is based upon landed 
property, which, he maintains, is the only solid 
foundation for power; and the distinguishing 
characteristic of his plan is the principle of an elec- 
tive administration, whose members are to go out 
of office by a complicated system of rotation. His 
ejcposition is clear and logical, but the method he 
proposes has the never-failing defect of all these 
scientific systems of ideal constitution-makers, viz., 
that of calculating upon results as if they could be 
predicted with unerring certainty upon mathemati- 
cal premises. Political projectors, from Plato down 
to the Abb6 Siey^s, invariably forget that they have 
to do with the capricious elements of human nature, 
and not with ciphers or the unvarying forces of 
inanimate nature. Harrington was the founder of 
the celebrated Rota Club; a society of political 
enthusiasts who met to discuss their theories, and to 
which belonged most of the philosophical repub- 
licans of that day — the Girondins of our English 
Revolution. In these discussions Harrington's 
mind was so heated that at last his reason gave way 
while undergoing an imprisonment to which he had 
been condemned ; and in 1C77 he died, after having 
been liberated from confinement and restored to 
the care of his friends in consideration of his in- 
sanity. 

Algeenon Sidney (1621-1683), another celebrat- 
ed republican writer, the son of Robert, Earl of 
Leicester, and executed in the reign of Charles 11., 
wrote a work entitled Discourses on Government, 
which was not published till 1698. It is a refutation 
of the patriarchal theory which is most fully pro- 
pounded in the Patriarcha of SlE RoiiEET FiL- 
MEK, written in the reign of Charles I., but not 
published till 1680. Filmer's fundamental principle 
is, that the paternal authority is absolute, and that 
the first kings, being fathers of families, have trans- 
mitted this power to their descendants. Filmer's 
work was answered by Locke immediately after the 
Revolution (p. 272). 

Our Revolution, so fertile in striking events and 
great orators, statesmen, and soldiers, was not with- 
out many noble instances of virtue and intellect 
exhibited by women. On the side of the fiiends of 
liberty appear two female figures glowing with the 
purest radiance — those of LADY Rachel Russele, 
wife of the illustrious patriot and mart3'r, and of 
LtJOY HCTcniNSON, perhaps the most perfect idea 
of conjugal affection and constancy. Both occupy 
an honorable place in the literature of their times ; 
the former by the admirable collection of letters 
written to her friends after the cruel bereavement 
she so nobly supported, and the latter by the me- 
moirs which are among the most valuable and 
interesting documents of that agitated time. Lady 
Russell, whose husband was executed in 1683, sur- 
vived till 1725, and her correspondence was collected 
and published after her deatlu 



A.D. i6i2-i6So.] THE AGE OF THE RESTORATION. 207 

CHAPTER XII. 

THE AGE OF THE RESTORATION. 

§ 1. Samtjel Butler : his life. § 2. Subject and nature of Hudibras. $ 3. But- 
ler's miscellaneous uTitings. § 4. John Dryden : his life. § 5. His dramas. 
§ 6. His poems. Absalom and Achitophel. The Medal. Mac-Flec/aioe. 
§ 7. Religio Laid and the Hind and Panther. § 8. Odes. Translations of 
Juvenal and Virgil. § 9. Fables. § 10. Dryden's prose works. ^ 11. John 
BuxYAN : his life. § 12. His works. Grace abotinditig in the Chief of Si)i- 
ners. § 13. The Pihjrini's Progress. § 14. The Holy War. § 15. Edward 
Hyde, Earl of Clareneox. ^ His Hintorrj of the Great Rebellion, ^ 17. 
IzAAK Walton. His Lives and Complete Angler. § 18. Marquess of Hal- 
ifax. John Evelyn. § 19. Samuel Pepys. § 20. Sir Roger L 'Estrange. 

§ 1. If the greatest name among the Puritan and Repixblican party 
be that of Milton, the most illustrious literary representative of the 
Cavaliers is certainly Samuel Butler (i6i 2-1680). However opposed 
in political opinions, and however different in the nature of their works, 
these two men have some points of resemblance, in the vastness of an 
almost universal erudition, and in the immense quantity of thought 
which is embodied in their writings. The life of Butler was melan- 
choly; the great wit was incessantly persecuted by disappointment and 
distress ; and he is said to have died in such indigence as to have been 
indebted for a grave to the pity of an admirer. He was born of respec- 
table but not wealthy parentage in 1612, and began his education at 
Worcester Free School. Great obscurity rests upon the details of his 
career : thus there are contradictory traditions as to whether he studied 
at Oxford or at Cambridge, or even whether he enjoyed the advantages 
of a University training at all. In all probability the latter supposition 
is the truth, and lack of means deprived him of any lengthened oppor- 
tunity of acquiring, at either University, any portion of that immense 
learning which his works prove him to have possessed. As a j'oung 
man he performed the office of clerk to Jeffries, a country^ Justice of the 
Peace; and there is no doubt that he made himself acquainted with 
the details of English law procedure. He was afterwai-ds — most likely 
by the protection of Seiden, who knew and admired his talents, and 
who is said to have employed him as an amanuensis — preferred to the 
service of the Countess of Kent, in whose house Seiden long resided, 
and to whom indeed he is said to have been secretly married. Here 
Butler enjoyed one of the few gleams of sunshine that cheered his 
unhappy lot; he possessed good opportunities for study in tranquil 
retirement, and he had the advantage of conversing with accomplished 
men. It is nearly certain that he was for some time in the service — 
in the capacity of tutor or clerk — of Sir Samuel Luke, a wealthy and 
powerful county magnate, and who ^igured prominently in those trou- 



208 THE AGE OF THE RESTORATION, [Ciiap. XII. 

bled times as a violent republican member of Parliament, and as one 
of Cromwell's provincial satraps, half military and half political. In 
the house of Luke, who was an ardent fanatic, Butler had the oppor- 
tunity of accumulating those innumerable traits of bigotry and absur- 
dity which he afterwards interwove into his great satire on the Puritans 
and Independents ; and Luke himself, it seems almost indubitable, was 
the original of Butler's inimitable caricature of Hudibras, in which he 
embodies all that was odious, ridiculous, and vile in the politics and 
religion of the dominant party. His great work, the burlesque satire 
oi Hudibras, was published in detached portions and at irregular inter- 
vals : the first part, containing the first three cantos, in 1663, the second 
part in the following year, and the third not until 1678. Though com- 
posed, in all probability, long before, the first instalment of this inimi- 
table satire was obliged to await the Restoration to make its first 
appearance ; for it was only that event, by inaugurating the triumphs 
of Butler's loyal opinions, that could have secured the author from seri- 
ous danger. The poem instantly became the most popular book of the 
age; for it gratified at once the taste for the liighest wit and ingenuity', 
and the vindictive triumph of the Royalists over their enemies and 
tyrants. Chai-les II., with all his vices, was a man who could appre- 
ciate wit and learning. He carried about Hudibras in his pocket, was 
incessantly quoting and admiring it, and Butler's poem became as fash- 
ionable at court as the not superior satire of Rabelais had been in a 
former age. Very little solid recompense, however, accn.ied to Biitler 
for his work. He was named Secretary to Lord Carburj'^, and in that 
capacity held for some time the ofiice of Steward of Ludlow Castle, 
where the Comics of Milton had been presented before the Earl of 
Bridgewater by his accomplished children ; but soon after Butler lost 
this place. It is said that Clarendon, then Chancellor, and Bucking- 
ham, as well as the King, had intended to do sometliing for the illus- 
trious supporter of their cause ; but that a sort of fatality combined 
with the usual ingi^titude of that profligate court to leave Butler in his 
former poverty; and the great wit is reported to have died, in extreme 
poverty, in a miserable lodging in Rose Street, Covent Garden (1680). 
He was buried, at the expense of his friend and admirer, Longue\^ille, 
in the churchyard of St. Paul's in that poor neighborhood. 

§ 2. Butler's principal title to immortality is his burlesque poem of 
Hudibras, a satire upon the vices and absurdities of the fanatic or 
republican party, and particularly of the two dominant sects of the 
Presbyterians and Independents. It is indeed to the English Common- 
wealth Revolution what the satire Menippee is to the troubles and 
intrig-ues of the League. Its plan is perfectly original, though the lead- 
ing idea may be in some measure referred to the Don Quixote of Cer- 
rantes ; but as the object of Butler was totally different from that of 
the immortal Spanish humorist, so the execution is so modified as to 
leave the English work all the glory of complete novelty. The aim of 
Cervantes was to make us laugh at the extravagances of his hero, but 
without losing our love and respect for his noble and heroic character; 



A. D. i6i2-i6So.] SAMUEL BUTLER. 209 

that of Butler was to render his personages as odious and contempti- 
ble as was compatible with- the sentiment of the ludicrous. Don Quix- 
ote, though never ceasing to be laughable, is in the highest degree 
amiable and respectable : indeed it is only the discordance between 
his lofty chivalric sentiments and the low and prosaic incidents which 
surround him, that makes him ridiculous at all. Transport him to the 
age of the Round Table, and he is worthy to ride by the side of Lance- 
lot or Galahad. Butler's hero — the combination of all that is uglj', 
cowardly, pedantic, selfish, and hypocritical — is on the very verge of 
being an object, not of ridicule, but of hatred and detestation ; and 
hatred and detestation are tragic and not comic feelings. Butler has 
shown consummate skill in stopping short just where his aim required 
it. All comic writing, the object of which is to excite laughter, attains 
its effect by the principle of discordance or disharmony between its 
subject and treatment; for as harmony is a fundamental principle of 
the beautiful, so is discord a fundamental principle of the ludicrous : 
consequently comic representations, whether written, painted, or sculp- 
tured, naturally divide themselves into two categories, both attaining 
their end by the same principle, though exliibiting that principle in tWT> 
diiferent ways. In ^ne we have a lofty and elevated subject intention- 
ally treated in a low and prosaic manner; in the other a low and prosaic 
subject treated in a lofty and pompous manner; and in either <:ase the 
contrast, or discord, between the subject and the treatment, being sud- 
denly presented to the imagination, provokes that mysterious emotion 
which we call the sense of the ludicrous. In the former case is pro- 
duced what we name Burlesque, in the second what we designate MSck- 
heroic. 

The poem of Hudibras describes the adventures of a fanatic Justice 
of the Peace and his clerk, who sally forth to put a stop to the amuse- 
ments of the common people, against which the Rump Parliament had 
in reality passed many violent and oppressive acts. Not only were the 
theatres suppressed, and all cheerful amusements proscribed, during 
that gloomy time, but the rougher pastimes of the lower classes, among 
which bear-baiting was one of the most favorite, were violently sup- 
pressed by authority. The celebrated story of Colonel Pride causing 
the bears to be shot by a file of soldiers furnished the enemies of the 
Puritan government with inexhaustible materials for epigram and 
caricature. Be it observed that these severe measures were in no 
degree prompted by any motive drawn from the brutal cruelty of the 
sport, but simply from a systematic hostility to everything that bore a 
semblance of gayety and amusement. Sir Hudibras, the hero of Butler, 
and who, as already remarked, is in all probability a caricature of Sir 
Samuel Luke, is described, both in his person and equipment, and in his 
moral and intellectual features, as a combination of pedantry, cow- 
ardice, ugliness, and hypocrisy, such as, for completeness, oddity of 
imagery, and richness of grotesque illustration, no comic writer, neither 
Lucian, nor Rabelais, nor Voltaire, nor Swift, has surpassed. He is 
the tj'pe or representative of the Presb^-terian party. His clerk Ralph 
l8* 



t^O TEE AGE OF THE RESTORATION: [Chap. XII. 

— the Sancho PanQa of this odious Qiiixote— is the satiric portrait of 
the sour, wrong-headed, but more enthusiastic Independent sect. The 
versification adopted bj Butler, as well as the name of his hero, is 
drawn from the old Anglo-NoiTnan Trouvere poets, and the L'egends of 
the Round Table ; and the baseness of the incidents, the minuteness of 
the details, and the long dialogues between the personages, form a 
parody the comic impression of which is heightened when we think of 
the stately incidents of which the poem is a burlesque. Sallying forth 
to stop the popular amusements, Sir Hudibras and his Squire encoun- 
ter a procession of ragamuffins conducting a bear to the place of 
combat. They refuse to disperse at the summons of the knight, when 
a furious mock-heroic battle ensues, in which, after varying fortunes, 
Hudibras is victorious, and succeeds in incarcerating in the parish 
stocks the principal delinquents. Their comrades return to the charge, 
liberate them, and place in dui*ance in their stead the Knight and 
Squire, who are in their turn liberated by a rich widow, to whom Sir 
Hudibras, purely from interested motives, is paying his court. Hudi- 
bras afterwards visits the lady, and i-eceives a sound beating from her 
'Servants disgoiised as devils ; and he afterwards consults a lawyer and 
an astrologer to obtain revenge and satisfaction. The merit, however, 
and the interest of this extraordinary poem by no means consist in its 
plot. Such incidents as are introduced are indeed described with 
exti-aordinary animation and a grotesque richness of invention ; but 
there is a complete want of unity and connection of interest, and there 
cannot be traced any general combination of events into an intrig\ie, 
or leading to a catastrophe. 

A long interval elapsed between the publication of the first and last 
canto, and in that interval the politics of the day had undergone a 
complete change. Butler, whose main object was to satirize the follies 
and wickedness of the reigning party, was obliged to direct his shafts 
against quite other vices and totally different persons : thus in the last 
canto he describes the general breaking up of the Rump Parliament, 
and the events immediately preceding the Restoration. His poem in 
general, like the adventure of the Bear and Fiddle which it contains, 
" begins, and breaks off in the middle." But no reader probably ever 
regretted the irregular and undecided march of the story; for the 
pleasure given by Hudibras is quite independent of the gratification 
of that kind of curiosity which finds its aliment in a well-developed 
intrigue. The astonishing fertility of invention displayed in the de- 
scriptions both of things and pei-sons, the analysis of character exhib- 
ited in the long and frequent dialogues (principally' between Hudibras 
and Ralph), the vivid and animated painting of the incidents, and 
above all the immeasurable flood of witty and unexpected illustra- 
tion which is poured forth throughout the whole poem — these are 
the qualities which have made Butler one of the great classics of 
the English language. Wit is the power of tracing unexpected analo- 
gies,' whether of difference or resemblance; the faculty of bringing 
together ideas, apparently incongruous, but between which, when so 



A. D. i6i2-i6So.] SAMUEL BUTLER. 2U 

brought together, the ordinary mind, though itself totally incapable of 
bringing them into contact, at once perceives their relation ; and this 
perception, suddenly excited, is accompanied by a flash of pleasure and 
surprise. From the juxtaposition of the two poles of the galvanic wire, 
each previously cold and inert, darts forth a lightning-like spark of 
heat and radiance. The reader, being made the conducting body of 
this magic flash of wit, feels for the moment all the pleasure of the 
discoverer of the hidden relation. This power of associating ideas and 
images apparently incongruous, no author ever possessed in so high a 
degree as Butler; his learning was portentous in its extent and variety: 
and he appears to have accumulated his vast stores, not only in the 
beaten tracks, but in the most obscure corners and out-of-the-way 
regions of books and sciences. The amount of thought as well as 
reading he displays is almost terrifying to the mind; and he surprises 
not only by the unexpected images supplied by his immense reading, 
but quite as often by what is suggested by his fertile and ever-working 
imagination. The effect of the whole is augmented by the easy, rat- 
tling, conversational tone of his language, in which the most colloquial, 
familiar, and even vulgar expi-essions are found side by side with the 
pedantic terms of art and learning. The metre, too, is singularly 
happy; the short octosyllable verse carries us on w-Ith unabating 
rapidity; and the perpetual recurrence of odd and fantastic rhymes, 
whose ingenuity is artfully concealed under an appe6.rance of the most 
unstudied ease, produces a series of pleasant shocks that awaken and 
satisfy the attention. 

Butler is at once intensely concise and abundantly rich. His expres- 
sions, taken singly, have the pregnant brevity of proverbs ; while the 
fertility of his illustrations is perpetually opening new vistas of comic 
and witty association. He is as suggestive in his manner of writing as 
Milton himself; but while our great epic poet fills the mind, by indirect 
allusion, with all images that are graceful, awful, or sublime, Butler 
brings to bear upon his satiric pictures an unbounded store of ideas 
drawn from the most recondite sources. Milton leads the reader's 
mind to wander through all the realms of nature, philosophy, and art; 
Butler brings the stores of his knowledge and reading to our door. It 
is this marvellous condensation in his style, combined with the quaint- 
ness of his rhymes, that have caused so many of Bui er's couplets to 
become proverbial sayings in common conversation, ana to be frequent- 
ly employed by people who perhaps do not know whence these sparkling 
fiigments of wit and wisdom are derived. The contrast of characteri- 
in Hudibras and Ralph is of course far less dramatic than that between 
Don Qiiixote and his inimitable Squire ; j'et the delicacy and vivacity 
with which Butler has distinguished between two cognate varieties of 
pedantry and fanaticism are worthy of great admiration. The sophis- 
tries and rascally equivocations which abound in the long arguments 
between the Knight and his attendaj^.t are admirable. It is not to be 
expected that Butler, whose object was exclusively satirical, should 
have taken into consideration any of the noblei qualities of the fanatics 



212 THE AGE OF THE RESTORATION. [Chap. XII. 

whom he attacked ; and therefore we must not be surprised to find their 
intense religious zeal painted otherwise than as hypocritical greed, and 
their undoubted courage transformed into cowardice. The poem is 
crowded wnth allusions to particular persons and events of the Civil 
War and Commonwealth ; and consequently its merits can be fully 
appreciated only by those who are acquainted with the minute histoi-y 
of the epoch, for which reason Butler is eminently one of those authors 
who require to be studied with a commentary; yet the mere ordinary 
reader, though many delicate strokes will escape him, may gather from 
Hudibras a rich harvest of wisdom and of wit. | However specific be 
the direction of much of the satire, a very large proportion will always 
be applicable as long as there exist in the world hypocritical pretenders 
to sanctity, and quacks in politics or learning. Many of the scenes and 
conversations are universal portraitures ; as, for example, the consulta- 
tion with the lawyer, the dialogues on love and man-iage with the lady, 
^ the scenes with Sidrophel, and a multitude of others. From Butler's 
writings alone there would be no difficulty in drawing abundant illus- 
trations of all the varieties of wit enumei*ated in Barrow's famous 
enumeration: the "pat allusion to a known stoiy, the seasonable ap- 
plication of a trivial saying; the pla>'ing in words and phrases, takings 
advantage from the ambiguity of their sense, or the affinity of their 
sound. Sometimes it is wrapped in a dress of humoix>us expression; ^" 
sometimes it lurks under an odd similitude ; sometimes it is lodged in qr*^ 
sly question, in a smart answer, in a quirkish reason, in a shrewd inti- 
mation, in cunningly diverting or clevei^Iy retorting an objection ; some- 
times it is couched in a bold scheme of speech, in a tart irony, in a 
lusty hyperbole, in a startling metaphor, in a plausible reconciling of 
contradictions, or in acute nonsense; sometimes an affected simplicity, 
sometimes a presumptuous bluntness, giveth it being; sometimes it 
riseth only from a lucky hitting upon what is sti'unge, sometimes from 
a crafty wresting obvious matter to the purpose." 

§ 3. A large mass of Butler's miscellaneous writings has been pub- 
lished ; and a curious discovery was made, long after his death, of the 
commonplace book in which he entered the results of his reading, and 
such thoughts and expressions as he intended to work up into his -^\^ 
writings. The posthumous miscellanies consist of prose and verse. ~^^ 
Among the former are sketches of a series of chai'acters somewiiat in 
the manner of Theophrastus, Fuller, More, and Feltham. They are 5"^ 
marked by that extreme pregnancy of wit and allusion which is so ^ 
characteristic of his genius. The poems are in many instances bitter 
ridicule of the puerile pursuits which he attributes to the physical 
investigations of that day, and he is particularly severe upon the then v 

recently-founded Royal Society; but he seems to be unjvist to the ardor '*^^: 
and success with which such researches were then carried on, and to i v 
have confounded with the sublime outburst of experimental philosophy i" 
the quackery and pedantry with which such movements are necessarily ^^^_^_ 
accompanied. 
§ 4. The great name of John Drydek (1631-1700) forms the con' 



A.D. 1631-1700.] JOHN DR YD EN, 213 

necting link between the English literature of the seventeenth century 
and the completely different turn of thought and style of writing which 
were introduced at the Restoration. His life in its general features 
occupies the quarter of a century succeeding that of Butler. He was 
born, of an ancient and wealthy county family, in 1631, and his father 
being an ardent Puritan, it is not surprising that he should have entered 
upon his literary career a partisan of the same religious and political 
doctrines, and gained *his first laurels by composing, in heroic stanzas, 
a warm eulogium on Cromwell. He was solidly educated, first under 
the famous Busby at Westminster School, and afterwards at Trinity 
College, Cambridge. At the approach of the Restoration he aban- 
doned, as was to' be expected, his predilections in favor of Puritanism, 
and attached himself thenceforward to the Royalist party, which was 
not only more likely to reward literary and poetical merit, but the spirit 
of which was an atmosphere far more congenial to his character. The 
whole life of Dryden is filled with vigorous and unremitting literary 
labor, and presents but few events unconnected with the successive 
composition of his works. Theatrical pieces were then the best- 
rewarded and productive form of intellectual labor, and, therefore, 
though conscious of his own deficiency in some important elements of 
dramatic genius, Dryden principally devoted himself to the stage, 
making a legal engagement with the King's Company of Plaj^ers to 
supply them regularly with three dramas every year. It proves his 
wonderful readiness and fertility, as well as his extraordinary industry, 
that he was long able to fulfil so arduous a contract; and the mind is 
struck with astonishment on contemplating the rapid succession of 
dramatic works in which, by majestic versification, brilliant dialogue, 
striking situations, romantic and picturesque incidents, he contrived to 
compensate for his want of pathos and delicate analysis of human 
nature. His dramatic works constitute a very large portion of his en- 
tire compositions, and both in their merits and their faults they are at 
once strikingly characteristic of the peculiar genius of their author, and 
of the state of taste at the period when they were written. His dramatic 
career began about the year 1662, with the Duke of Guise, the Wild 
Gallant, the Rival Ladies, the Indian Entperor, and many other 
pieces, tragic, comic, and romantic. 

In 1663 the poet married Lady Elizabeth Howard, daughter of the 
Earl of Berkshire, a union which is not supposed to have much contrib- 
uted to his happiness, the lady having been of a sour and querulous 
disposition ; and whether from his own unfavorable experience, or from 
natural disposition, Dryden generally exhibits himself in the light if 
not of a professed misogynist, yet of one who delighted to gird at mar- 
riage. In 1667 he produced his first great poem of a kind other than 
dramatic, the Annus Mirabilis, intended to commemorate the great 
events, or rather the great calamities, of the preceding year, the terrible 
Plague and Fire of London, and the War with the Dutch, then the 
rivals of England for supremacy by sea. This poem, written in the 
peculiar four-lined stanza which Davenant had employed in his poem 



214 THE AGE OF THE RESTORATION. [Chap. XIT. 

of Gondibert, Dryden made the vehicle for much ill-deserved eulogium 
upon the King, and much equally ill-founded glorification of the con- 
duct of a naval war which was one of the most humiliating episodes of 
our history. The poem, however, gave abundant proof of the vigor, 
majesty, and force of Dryden's style, and proved him to be the rightful 
heir to the vacant throne of English poetry. At this time he wrote his 
Essay on Dramatic Poetry, in which he formally maintains the superi- 
ority of rhyme in theatrical dialogue, thus ran^ng himself openly on 
the side of the then dominant literary party, who endeavored to subject 
the English stage to the rules and principles of French tragedy. The 
theory he maintained in argument he at this time exemplified in prac- 
tice, by composing many pieces, as Tyra?inic Love, in rhyme. His 
good taste, however, afterwards enabled him to shake off the shackles 
of prejudice in this respect, and he returned to the far finer and more 
national system of blank verse which had been consecrated by the 
authority of the great dramatists of the Elizabethan era. At this period 
Dryden was appointed Poet Laureate, and Historiographer to the King, 
and for some time enjoyed the moderate salary of 200/. attached to the 
office. 

During the whole of his life Dryden was engaged in literary and 
political squabbles, sometimes with envious rivals, as with Settle, a bad 
poet, whom the public and patrons sometimes preferred to him, some- 
times with more powerful and dangerous adversaries, as with the eccen- 
tric and infamous Duke of Buckingham, who not only caricatured him, 
with the assistance of zealous poetasters, on the stage in the famous 
burlesque of the Rehearsal, but on one occasion revenged himself on 
the poet hy causing him to be waylaid by night and severely beaten by 
a number of bravoes or bullies, such as were often in the pay of the 
great men in those odious times. The incident, like the slitting of Sir 
John Coventry's nose, is disgracefully characteristic of a state of society, 
the tone of which, particularly in the higher and more fashionable 
classes, was, to use a popular but expressive term, eminently black- 
guardly. 

In 1681 appeared the first part of one of Dryden's noblest and most 
original works, the political satire oi Absalom and Achitofhel, in which, 
under a transparent disguise of Hebrew names and allusions, he attacks 
the factious policy of the Chancellor Shaftesbury, and his intrigues with 
the Duke of Monmouth on the subject of the succession of the Duke of 
York. The second part of this poem was published three years after, but 
was principally written by Tate, Dryden having only contributed two 
hundred lines, and probably also revised the rest. To the same period 
belongs also the Medal, directed against the same bold and unscrupu- 
lous politician. The purely literary Satire, Mac-Flecknoe, in which 
Dryden takes a terrible revenge upon Settle and Shadwell, and which 
is as original in design as it is forcible in execution, belongs to the year 
1682. Dryden's fertility was almost inexhaustible. In 1684 he produced 
the Religio Laid, an eloquent and vigorous defence of the Anglican 
Church against the Dissenters, and one of the finest controversial 



A.. D. 1631-1700.] JOHN DRYDEJfT. 215 

poems in any language. In 1686 Drjden abandoned the faith he had 
so powerfully defended, and embraced the Catholic doctrines, in which 
act he is unfortunately suspected of having been swayed in some degree 
by interested motives, as the change most suspiciously coincides witb 
the efforts made hy the King, James II., to convert every one, by threat* 
or corruption, to the faith of which he was so bigoted a professor 
Dryden, nevertheless, may have been sincere in thus changing his reli- 
gion ; at all events he produced in defence of it a polemical poem, which, 
in spite of the fundamental absurdity of its plan, exhibits in a high de- 
gree his unequalled power of combining vigorous reasoning with sono- 
rous verse and rich illustration. The poem was entitled the Hitid and 
Panther, and will form the subject of some critical remarks in our gen- 
eral review of his works. It was published in 1687. ^^ the following 
3^ear the Revolution deprived the poet of that court favor which no 
Catholic or partisan of absolute monarchy could hope to retain ; but 
this event was incapable of arresting the activity or chilling the fire of 
the great poet. He continued to write dramatic pieces, and gave to the 
world his excellent translation of Juvenal and Persius, with the former 
of which satirists his genius had many points of similarity. His trans- 
lation of Virgil appeared in 1697, and seems to have been one of his 
most profitable literary ventures; it has been said that he gained 1200/. 
by this publication. At the same time he composed his Ode on St. 
Cecilia's Day, one of the noblest lyrics in the English language. Old 
age and broken health seem not to have been able to interrupt his 
career; for in 1700 he produced his Fables, a collection of tales either 
borrowed and modernized from Chaucer or versified from Boccaccio, in 
which his invention, fire, and harmony appear in their very highest 
power. In this year he died of a mortification in the leg, combined 
with dropsy; and was buried in Westminster Abbey, followed to the 
grave by the admiration of his countrymen, who saw that in him they 
had lost incomparably the greatest poet of the age. 

§ 5. In considering the voluminous writings of Dryden, it will be 
advisable to review, first his dramas, then his various works in other 
departments of poetry, and lastly his prose. 

In the drama Dryden is the chief representative of that great revo- 
lution in taste which followed the Restoration, when the sweet and 
powerful style of the romantic drama of the Elizabethan type was sup- 
planted by an imitation of French models. The comic pieces of Dry- 
den are marked by all and more than all the pr^ound immorality 
which corrupted fashionable society at that odious period ; and at the 
same time his deficiency in humor renders his pieces dull and stupid in 
spite of their extravagance, giving the reader no pleasantry to compen- 
sate for their grossness. The most flagrant instance of his ill-success 
in this branch was his comedy of Limberham, while it is but fair to 
remark that in the Spanish Friar there are scenes and characters of 
considerable merit. As the most popular and fashionable species of 
entertainment, the theatre was, of course, exposed to the full influence 
of the prevailing immorality, which was the reaction after the exagger^ 



216 THE AGE OF THE RESTORATION. [Chap. XII. 

ated severity of the Puritan times ; and being a vice to which the 
stage is always of itself especially prone, this immorality was further 
intensified by the shameless profligacy of the court. Dryden, in yield- 
ing to this detestable tendency, merely followed the prevailing fashion ; 
and though not perhaps personally a man of high spirit, showed, by 
the submission with which he received Jeremy Collier's well-merited 
rebuke on the indecency and irreligion of his plays, that he had the 
grace to be ashamed of faults which he had not the virtue to avoid. 

The tragedy of this period forms a most amusing contrast to the 
comedy; while in the latter the vilest indecency was paraded with 
unblushing impudence, tragedy affected a tone of romantic enthusiasm 
and superhuman elevation far removed from nature and common sense. 
The heroes were incessantly represented as supernaturally brave, as 
involving themselves in the most abstruse casuistry of amorous meta- 
physics, originally traceable to the wire-drawn subtleties of the ro- 
mances of the sixteenth century, and which in their turn had their 
origin in the Arrets d'Amour of the Provencal troubadours. Self-sac- 
rifice is pushed to the verge of caricature, and all the ordinary feelings 
of nature are violated to attain a sort of impossible ideal of heroic and 
amorous perfection. In ihe Rival Ladies, the l7idian Emferor, Tyraji- 
nic Love, Aureng-zebe, All for Love, Cleomenes, Doji Sebastian, and 
similar pieces, we see Dryden's dramatic genius, as we see the dramatic 
spirit of the age, in its power and in its weakness. Dryden had very 
little mastery over the tender emotions, and very little skill in the de- 
lineation of character : nor was he ignorant of his deficiencies in this 
respect : he tried, and with no mean success, to compensate for them 
by striking, unexpected, and picturesque incidents, by powerful declam- 
atory dialogue, and by a majesty, ease, and splendor of versification. 
The kind of scenes in which Dryden exhibits his nearest approach to 
dramatic excellence are dialogues in which the speakers begin by vio- 
lent recriminations and finish with reconciliation ; scenes, in short, 
similar to the quarrel between Brutus and Cassius in the yiclius Ccesar 
of Shakspeare. Conscious of his power, Dryden has frequently re- 
peated situations of this kind; examples of which are the dispute 
between Antony and Ve.ntidius \x\ All for Love, a piece founded upon 
Antony and Cleopatra, and the still finer specimen of the same kind 
of writing between Dorax and the King in Don Sebastian. In such 
scenes Dryden reaches if not the level of Shakspeare, at least that of 
Massinger or Flet^er. In his eagerness to supply constant food to the 
craving for novelty, Dryden sometimes forgot that veneration for the 
genius of his predecessors which on other occasions he has eloqviently 
expressed ; thus, in conjunction with Davenant, he condescended to 
make alterations and additions to Shakspeare's Tempest, transforming 
that pure and ideal creation into a brilliant and meretricious opera, full 
of scenic effects, and containing, besides Miranda, the addition of a 
young man who has never seen a woman, giving full opportunity for 
those prurient allusions which were then so vehemently applauded. 
Similarly he did not scruple to transform the Paradise Lost into an 



A. D. 1631-1700.] JOHN DRYDEN. 217 

operatic entertainment, in which the sublimity and purity of ISIilton 
are strangely disfigured. This piece was styled the State of Iniiocence. 
In those days Prologues and Epilogues formed an essential and favorite 
accompaniment to theatrical pieces ; and they were written with great 
skill, containing either allusions to the topics of the moment or judg- \] 
ments on the great authors of the earlier stage; and, when delivered <o 
by a fascinating actress or a graceful tragedian, were received with ^ 
enthusiastic applause. Dryden was equally adroit and fertile in this 
class of composition, and many of his prologues and epilogues are 
masterpieces both in the comic and elevated style. In many of the 
comic productions of this nature he unfortunately panders to the pre- 
vailing taste for loose allusion and equivoque, particularly in those 
■which were delivered by Nell Gwynne and other frail but fascinating 
beavities. -"^^^ 

§ 6. Even in the earliest productions of this poet, as in his Heroic 
Stanzas in praise of Cromwell, it is easy to perceive that force, vigor, 
and majestic melody of style which distinguish him above all the 
writers of his age, above all the writers of any age, perhaps, in the 
English literature. In some of his first attempts he adopted the form 
of the stanza, generally, as in his Annus Mirabilis^ the four-lined 
alternately-rhymed stanza of the Gondibert of Davenant. But he 
ultimately preferred the rhymed heroic couplet of ten-syllabled lines, a 
measure which he carried to the highest perfection of which it is capa- 
ble; and even in his stanzas we may clearly see that they possess the 
essential elements of this last form of versification, as each can be 
resolved into tvvo sonorous couplets. This kind of metre Dryden 
wielded with singular force and mastery : whether he reasons, or de- \ 
scribes, or declaims, or narrates, he moves with perfect freedom; and 
the regularity of the structure of his verse, and the recurrence of the 
rhyme, so far from appearing to shackle his movements, seem owXy to , \* 
give majesty and impetus to his march. lie frequently intersperses a >j 
third line, rhyming with the two preceding, and forming a triplet, and ^ 
this third line, which is often an Alexandrine of twelve instead of ten k 
syllables, winds up the period with a roll of noble harmony, — ' 

"A long-resounding march and melody divine." 

Perhaps the greatest among his longer poems are those in which the 
subject is half-polemic and half-satirical. The Absalom and Achitofhel 
contains a multitude of admirably drawn portraits, among which those 
of Shaftesbury, the Duke of Buckingham, Settle, Shadwell, and the 
infamous Titus Gates, remain in the memory of every reader^ Nothing- 
can better prove the extreme difterence between the descriptive and 
dramatic manner of drawing characters than a comparison between the 
astonishing vivacity of these delineations and Dryden's weakness when 
endeavoring to represent human beings on the stage. In order to fully 
appreciate all the merits of this poem it is necessary to read it in con- 
nection with the history of the time, and to follow Dryden into his 
innumerable allusions to the questions and persons of the day; but even 
19 



218 THE AGE OF THE RESTORATION. [Chap. XIL 

the general student, who will examine it from a purely literary point of 
view, will find in it the noblest examples of moral painting, always 
vigorous though not always just, and will perceive all the highest quali- 
ties of the English language as a vehicle for reasoning and description. 
The Medal, a satire directed, like the former, chiefly against the factious 
turbulence of Shaftesbury, contains passages not inferior. 

Drj'den has given us, in Mac-Flecknoe, the first example of purely 
literary and personal satire. Its object was his rival Shadwell ; and the 
poet supposes his victim to be the successor in the supremacy of stupid- 
ity to a wretched Irish scribbler named Flecknoe, giving him to indicate 
this succession the title of Mac, the Celtic or Irish form of the patro- 
nymic. The satire is undoubtedly coarse and violent, but it contains 
numerous interesting details concerning the literature, and particularly 
the drama, of the daj^ ; and many passages are powerfully and bitterly 
original. - 

§ 7. The two great controversial poems Rcligio Laid and the Hind 
and Panther exhibit in its highest perfection Dryden's consummate 
mastery in perhaps the most difficult species of writing, nameljs poetry 
in which close reasoning on an abstract subject like theology should be 
combined with rich illustration and picturesque imagery. With the 
nature of his arguments it is not necessary to meddle ; they are, both 
on the Protestant and Catholic side, the same that naturally present 
themselves to the disputant; and are based upon Scripture or tradition, 
upon induction or experience, as may best serve the writer's purpose. 
But the powerful and unfettered march of the reasoning, the abundance 
of picturesque illustration, and the noble outbursts of enthusiasm make 
us alternately converts to the one faith and to the other, and prove 
Dryden to be one of the greatest of ratiocinative poets. In the Hind 
and Panther we very soon get over the preliminary absurdity of the 
fable, in which the two animals that give the title to the poem are 
represented as engaging in an elaborate argument in favor of the two 
churches whose emblems they are — the " milk-white Hind " the Catho- 
lic, and the Panther the Church of England — as well as the repre- 
sentation of the other sects under the guise of wolves, bears, and a whole 
menagerie of animals. The opening of the Religio Laid is incompa- 
rably fine, as well as the allusions inore than once made in both poems 
to the writer's own religious convictions. What is very curious is that 
Dryden, though unquestionably a man of strong pious aspirations, has 
always given a verj'^ unfavorable character of the clergy; and does not 
confine his satirical invectives to the priests of any one religion, but 
classes pa^n augurs, Turkish imams, Egyptian hierophants in one 
common r^robation with Christian ministers of all sects, orthodox as 
well as sectarian. 

§ 8. The lyric productions of this poet are not numerous in propor- 
tion to their excellence. Interspersed among the scenes of his roman- 
tic dramas are many beautiful and harmonious songs ; but his most 
celebrated production of this kind is his Ode on St. Cecilia's Day^ 
written for music, and celebrating the powers and the triumph of the 



A. D. 1631-1700.] ' JOHN DRYDE^. 219 

art. The narrative portion of this noble Ijric is a description of the 
various passions excited by the Greek harper Timotheus in the mind 
of Alexander the Great, as he is feasting with his victorious chieftains 
in the royal halls of Persepolis. Joy, pleasure, pride, pity, terror, and 
revenge successively arise under the " mighty master's " touch, and the 
various strophes at once describe and exemplify the sentiment they 
paint. The poem concludes with an allusion to the fabled invention of 
sacred music by St. Cecilia. Dryden is said to have written this ad- 
mirabl ^ ooem at a single jet, and in the space of a few hours. It will 
a ways be regarded as one of the most energetic lyrics in the English 
language. In spite of some inequalities of expression, it rushes on 
with a flow and a swing like.that of Pindar himself, and in many places 
the sound is an echo to the sense. It is the Sinfonia Eroica of Beet- 
hoven in words. 

The translation into English verse of the Satires of Juvenal and 
Persius exhibits Dryden's power of transferring to his own language, 
not perhaps the exact sense of those difficult authors, but their general 
spirit. There was a considerable similarity between the tone of Dry- 
den's mind and that of Juvenal ; the same force, the same somewhat 
declamatory character, and the same unscrupulous boldness in painting 
what was odious and detestable : but the plain-spoken frankness of the 
Roman, in delineating the incredible corruption of the times of Domi- 
tian, degenerates into licentiousness in Dryden, who seems sometimes 
to gloat over descriptions which Juvenal introduced purely with an in- 
tention of exhibiting in all its horror the vice which he lashes. Our 
poet's most extensive work of poetical translation was his English 
version of Virgil ; and though he has produced what will always be 
regarded as one of the great standard monuments of our literature, it 
may be regretted that the author he selected for translation was not 
one more accordant with his peculiar genius. Virgil's predominant 
quality is majesty indeed, but majesty always tempered with con- 
summate grace ; and Dryden, however characterized by majesty, was 
certainly deficient in grace and elegance. He seems himself to have 
become conscious of his error, and to have lamented that he had not 
rather chosen Homer. Two of our most illustrious poets, Dryden and 
Pope, have respectively translated Virgil and Homer: their glory would 
have been greater had they exchanged subjects. The robust and some- 
what masculine genius of Dryden could not perfectly assume the vir- 
ginal and ideal refinement of the Diana-like Muse of Mantua. 

§ 9. The highest qualities of Dryden's literary genius never blazed 
out with greater splendor than whfin about to set forever in the grave. 
His Fables, as he called them, though they are in no sense fables, but 
rather tales in verse, exhibit all his noblest qualities, and are in general 
free from his defect of occasional coarseness. The subjects of these 
narratives are either modernfeed and paraphrased from Chaucer, or 
taken from the same sources whence Chaucer drew his materials, the 
Decameron of Boccaccio, and other French and Italian novelle. Among 
the revivals of Chaucer may be specified Palamon and Arcite (the 



220 THE AGE OF THE RESTORATION. [Chap. XII. 

Knight's Tale), January and May (the Doctor's Tale), the Cock an^ 
the Fox (the Nun's Priest's Tale), and a paraphrase of Chaucer's char- 
acter of the Good Parson ; among the latter category the stories of 
Cymon and Iphigenia and Theodore and Honoria. These works are 
for the most part of considerable length ; and it is curious to see how 
Dryden, with all his deep and sincere veneration for Chaucer, has 
failed to reproduce the more delicate and subtler qualities of his model. 
The splendor, the force, the picturesqueness of the original are indeed 
there ; but the tender naivete, the almost infantine pathos of the origi- 
nal, have quite evaporated, like some subtle perfume, in the process of 
transfusion. How far this is to be attributed to Dryden's own charac- 
ter — always deficient in tenderness — how far to the general tone of 
the age in which he lived, an age the very antipodes of sentiment, it is 
difficult to decide : in some degree, perhaps, that evanescent and subtle 
fragrance may be intimately connected with Chaucer's archaic lan- 
guage : but all who have attempted to modernize the father of our 
poetry have in a greater or less degree encountered the same insuper- 
able difficulty. The diminution of tenderness is peculiarly perceptible 
in such passages as the dying speech of Arcite, and in many traits of 
the portrait of the Parson, to whom Dryden has communicated quite 
a modern air. These narratives, therefore, in order to produce their 
full effect, should be read as independent works of Dryden, without 
any reference either to Chaucer or Boccaccio ; in which case they cannot 
fail to excite the liveliest admiration. The flowing ease with which the 
story is told, the frequent occurrence of beautiful lines and happy 
expressions, will ever make them the most favorable specimens perhaps 
of Dryden's peculiar merits. 

§ 10. Besides poetry, Dryden produced a very large quantity of 
prose, much of it of great value, not only for the style, but in many 
instances also for the matter. The form of his prose works was gen- 
erally that of Essays or Prefaces prefixed to his various poems, and 
discussing some subject in connection with the particular matter in 
hand. Thus in his Essay on Dramatic Poetry he investigates the then 
hotly-argued question as to the employment of Rhyme in Tragedy ; 
his Juvenal was accompanied with a most amusing treatise on Satire ; 
indeed few of his poetical works appeared without some prose disqui- 
sition. In this way he has travelled over a vast field of critical inquiry-, 
and given us invaluable appreciations of poets of his own and other 
countries. Dryden must be regarded as the first enlightened critic who 
appeared in the English language. His judgments concerning Chaucer, 
Shakspeare, and his mighty contemporaries, Milton and a multitude 
of other authors, do equal honor to the catholicity of his taste and the 
courage with which he expressed his opinions. His decisions may, 
indeed, sometimes be erroneous, but they are always based upon reflec- 
tion and a ground, specious at least, if not solid. These works, besides, 
are admirable specimens of lively, vigorous, idiomatic English, of 
which no man, when he chose to avoid the occasional pedantic employ- 
ment of fashionable French words, was a great master. The Dedica- 



A. D. 1628-16S8.] JOHN BUNTAK S21 

iiofzs of many of his works to great and influential patrons, howevef 
little honor they may do to Dryden's independence of character, are'' 
singularly ingenious and well-turned; and in judging the tone of ser- 
vility which such things display, we must not forget that it was the 
fashion of the time, and that a professional author, who lived by his 
pen, could hardly afford to sacrifice his interest to an assertion of dig- 
nity which no one at that time could understand. 

§ 11. Literature presents no more original personality than that of 
John Bunyan (1628-168S), the greatest master of allegory that ever has 
existed. He was born at the village of Elstow, near Bedford, in 1628. 
His father was a tinker, and the son in his youth followed the same 
humble calling. Though born in the very lowest rank of social life, 
and consequently enjoying very limited advantages of education, which 
appear in Bunj^an's case to have extended no farther than simple read- 
ing and writing, he had before him the example of piety and morality, 
and at about the age of eighteen entered the military service in the 
Parliamentary army. In the strange and interesting religious autobi- 
ographj' which he wrdte under the title of Grace Aboiuiding in the Chief 
of Si?uters, Bunyan has given a curious picture of his internal strug- 
gles, his despair, his conversion, and his acceptance bj'God; and the 
whole range of mystical literature does not offer a more touching con- 
fession. Like all enthusiasts, he much exaggerales the sinfulness of 
his original state; and the peace and confidence in Divine m.ercy, 
which he attained at the price of agonies such as almost overthrew his 
reason, and which are of themselves an evidence of the natural strength 
of his feelings, form a contrast with the gloom and despair from which 
he imagined himself to have been rescued hy a miraculous interposi- 
tion of heavenly grace. But it is certain that the irregularities he so 
deeply deplores were venial, if not altogether trifling, and that his con- 
duct had always in the^main been virtuous and moral. He married 
very young, and his worst vices appear to have been a habit of swear- 
ing, and a taste for ale-drinking and the pastime — always so popular 
among the English peasantry — of bell-ringing and playing at hockey 
and tip-cat. After experiencing the fearful internal struggles usual 
when strongly imaginative and impressionable minds are first brought 
under religious conviction, he joined, in 1655, the sect of the Baptists, 
one of the most enthusiastic among the innumerable Calvinistic sects 
with which England was then seething; and he gradually attracted 
notoriety by the fervor of his piety and the rude eloquence of his dis- 
courses. Deeply sincere himself, and of a benevolent and lo^'ing dis- 
position, he was eager to communicate to others those '' glad tiding:? 
of great joy " which had been, as he imagined, divinely brought home 
to his own soul ; and his powerful genius, combined with his religious 
ardor, must have given him vast power over the humble enthusiasts 
who composed his congregations. 

At the time of the Restoration the government began to persecute 
with extreme severity the dissenting sects, which were in most cases 
identified with the political doctrines of the recently overthrown Com* 
19* 



222 THE AGE OF THE RESTORATION. [Chap. XII, 

monwealth ; and Bunyan, as a leading man among the Baptists, was 
'necessarily exposed to these trials. After undergoing some minor per- 
secutions, he was convicted of frequenting and upholding conventicles, 
and imprisoned for upwards of twelve years in the jail of Bedford. 
During this long confinement, the rigor of which, however, was grad- 
ually much relaxed towards its close, he supported himself by making 
tagged laces, and acquired the veneration of his .companions by the 
benevolence with which he consoled them, and by the fervor of his 
religious exhortations. In prison, too, he enjoyed the society of his 
family, and particularly of his little blind daughter, of whom he v/as 
passionately fond. It was during this confinement that he composed 
his immortal allegory the PilgrMs Progress. In the eleventh year of 
his imprisonment, when he was frequently allowed to leave the jail, he 
was chosen pi-eacher of the Baptist congregation. The persecution 
against the sects having been gradually relaxed, in consequence of the 
Jesuitical policy of James II., who under the mask of general tolera- 
tion wished insensibly to relieve the proscription that weighed upon 
the Catholics, Bunyan was at last liberated altogether; and in 1672 he 
had become a venerated and influential leader in his sect, preaching 
frequently both in Bedford and London. His sufi:erings, his virtues, 
his genius as a writer, and his eloquence as a pastor contributed to his 
fame. He died in 16S8, in London, it is said in consequence of a cold 
caught in a journey undertaken by him in inclement weather with the 
object of reconciling a father and a son. His character appears to have 
been essentially mild, affectionate, and animated by a truly evangelical 
love to all men. He was kind and indulgent, and free from that nar- 
row-minded sectarian jealousy which loves to confine the privileges of 
salvation to its own little coterie ; and, though a leading member of .'; 
most fanatical and enthusiastic persuasion, he exhibited a rare example 
of Christian charity and a truly catholic love for all mankind. In 
spite, however, of the real mildness and gentleness of his character, 
his external manners and appearance, as he has himself recorded, had 
something austere and forbidding; but this was only apparent, and, 
apart from a few of those childish and almost technical scruples in 
matters really indifferent, which may be called the badges of sectarian 
societies, Bunyan showed none of the sour and peevish narrowness 
which is the vice of such bodies. This is as honorable to him as it is 
extraordinary in itself, when we reflect upon his limited education and 
upon the almost irresistible tendency of the circumstances which sur- 
rounded him. 

§ 12. The works of Bunyan are numerous; but there are only three 
among them upon which it will be necessary for us to dwell. These 
are the religious autobiography entitled Grace Aboitnditig in the Chief 
of Sinners^ to which I have slightly alluded above, and the two religious 
allegories, the Pilgrivi's Progress and W\q. Holy War. In the first of 
these works Bunyan has given the minutest and most candid account 
of his own spiritual struggles and conversion. It is a book of the same 
order with the mystic writings of St. Theresa, with the Confessions of 



A. D. 1628-16S8.] JOHN BUN Y AN. 223 

St. Augustine, and not inferior in interest and originality to the Con- 
fessions of Rousseau. The author lays bare before us all the recesses 
of his heart, and admits us to the tremendoits spectacle of a human 
soul working out by unspeakable agonies its liberation from the bonds 
of sin and worldliness. It is evident that Bunyan has enormously 
exaggerated the criminality of his unregenerate state, and that the 
enthusiasm of his character has, though in perfect simplicity and good 
faith, intensified both the lights and shades of the picture. The delinea- 
tion, however, can never fail to possess interest either for the religious 
student or for the philosopher who love^ to investigate the mysterious 
problems of our moral and spiritual nature. The gloom and the sun- 
shine, the despair and the triumph, are alike reflected in the simple and 
fervent language of Bunyan ; and the book abounds with those little 
inimitable touches of natural feeling and description which have placed 
its author among the most picturesque of writers. 

§ 13. But it is in his allegories that Bunyan stands unrivalled, and 
particularly in the Pilgrini's Progress. This book, which is in two 
parts, the first beyond comparison the finest, narrates the struggles, the 
experiences, and the trials of a Christian in his passage from a life of 
sin to everlasting felicity. " Mr. Christian," dwelling in a city, is 
incited by the consciousness of his lost state, typified by a heavy 
burden, to take a journey to the New Jerusalem — the city of eternal 
life. All the adventures of his- travel, the scenes which he visits, the 
dangers which he encounters, the enemies he combats, the friends and 
fellow-pilgrims he meets upon his road, typify, with a strange mixture 
of literal simplicity and powerful imagination, the vicissitudes of reli- 
gious experience. Shakspeare is not more essentially the prince of 
dramatists that Bunyan is the prince of allegorists. So intense was his 
intellectual vision that abstract qualities are instantly clothed by him 
with personality, and we sjanpathize with his shadowy personages as 
with real human beings. In the fair or terrible scenes which he sets 
before us we feel our belief captivated as with real incidents and places. 
Thousands of readers, from the child to the accomplished man, have 
trembled and rejoiced, have smiled and wept, in sympathy with the 
joys and sufferings of Bunyan's personages. ^ Dante possesses a some- 
what similar power o{ realizing the. conceptions of the imagination; 
but Dante took for his subjects real human beings, whom he placed in 
extraordinary positions, where they still retain their personality ; while 
Bunyan clothes with flesh and blood the abstract and the imaginary. 
Spenser was a great master of allegory; but it is not with his" persons, 
so much as with the brilliant and picturesque accessories that surround 
them, that we interest ourselves. The Red-Cross Knight, Una, Mal- 
becco, and Britomart do not excite any very lively anxiety about their 
fate as persons ; we follow their adventures with pleasure and curiositv, 
as we follow the unfolding incidents of a dramatic spectacle ; but we 
no more identify ourselves with their fate than we do with that of so 
many actors after the fall of the curtain. But Bunyan's dramatis per- 
sona we follow v»ath a breathless sympathy, something like that with 



224 THE AGE OF THE RESTORATION-. [Chap. XII. 

which we read Rohinso7i Crusoe for the first time. This result is indeed 
in some degree to be ascribed to the simple, direct, unadorned stjle in 
which Bunjan wrote, and to the reality with which he himself con- 
ceived his persons and adventures. 

The popularity of the Pilgrim's Progress was immediate and im- 
mense : it has continued to the present day; and the tale is one of the 
most fascinating to children and peasants. Indeed, there is hardly a 
cottage in England or Scotland where Bunyan's fiction does not find a 
place on the scanty book-shelf, between the Bible and the Almanac. 
Encom-aged by the success of the first part, Bunyan was induced to 
compose a continuation, in which the wife and children of Christian go 
over nearly the same ground and meet with nearly similar adventures. 
The charm, however, of the second part is far inferior to that of the 
first; the invention displayed, though remarkable, is devoid of the 
freshness which marks the persons and incidents of Christian's journey. 
A great many scenes and characters in Bunyan's books, though intended 
to embody allegorical meanings, are evidently drawn from real life. 
The description of Vanity Fair, many of the landscapes so beautifully 
and vividly painted, and a large number of the personages and dia- 
logues, bear all the marks of being transcripts from Bunyan's actual 
experience. The agitated times in which the book was written were 
abundant in strongly-marked characters, both good and bad; and we 
may accept, for exam.ple, the life-like scene of the accusation before the 
court of justice as a faithful picture of the incredible brutality and cor- 
ruption of the tribunals of those evil days. Bunyan, like all great 
creators, was gifted with a lively sense of the humorous, and in the 
characters and adventures we frequently see a comic element of no 
inconsiderable merit. The sublime and the grotesque, the tender, the 
terrible, and the humorous, were alike tasted by this truly ;pofular 
genius. In the largeness of his nature, as well as in the forcible and 
idiomatic picturesqueness of his language, he perfectly sympathizes 
with the people; and he has expressed their sentiments in their 
natural tongue. His knowledge of books was very small; but the 
English version of the Bible, in which our language exhibits its highest 
force and perfection, had been studied by him so intensely that he was 
completely saturated with its spirit. He wrote unconsciously in its 
style, and the innumerable scriptural quotations with which his works 
are incrusted like a mosaic, harmonize, without any incongruitv, with 
the general tissue of his language. Except the Bible, from which he 
borrowed, consciously or unconsciously, the main groundwork of his 
diction, he probably was little acquainted with books. Fox's Alartyrs 
and a few popular legends of knights errant, such as have ever been a 
favorite reading among the English peasantry, probably furnished all 
such materials as he did not find in the Script;u-es. The Bible, indeed, 
he is reported to have known almost hy heart. 

With such intellectual training, applied to a mind naturally sensitive 
and enthusiastic, the style of a writer might be rude, harsh, nay, even 
sometim.es ungrammatical, but it v\^as sure to be perfectly free from 



A. D. 1628-16S8.] JOHN BUNYAN. 225 

vulgarity and meretricious ornament; and Bunjan is the most perfect 
representative of the plain, vigorous, idiomatic, and sometimes pictu- 
resque and poetical language of the common people. It resembles in 
its masculine breadth and solidity that ancient style of architecture 
which is improperly called Saxon ; its robust pillars and stout arches, 
its combination of rugged stone and imperishable heart of oak, giving 
earnest of illimitable duration. It is surprising how universally 
Bunyan's diction is drawn from the primitive Teutonic element in our 
language : for pages together we sometimes meet with nothing but 
monosyllable and dissyllable words; with the exception of a few theo- 
logical terms, his structure is built up of the solid granite that lies at 
the bottom of our speech. Of course it was impossible that the alle- 
gory could always be maintained; in a work of such length the spiritual 
type could not always be kept distinct from the bodily antitype ; but the 
reader seldom experiences any difficulty from this cause, being carried 
forward by the vivacity of the narrative. The long spiritual discus- 
sions, expositions of theological questions, and exhortations addressed 
by one interlocutor to the others, not only afford curious specimens of 
the religious composition of those days, but increase the verisimilitude 
of the persons. These passages, too, show Bunyan's profound ac- 
quaintance with the language and the spirit of the Scriptures, and 
place in the strongest light his benevolent and evangelical Christianity. 
In hia descriptions he is equally powerful whether the object he paints 
be terrible or attractive : the Valley of the Shadow of Death is placed 
before us with the same astonishing reality as the Delectable Moun- 
tains — a reality strongly recalling the Hell and Paradise of Dante. 
No religious writer has analj^zed more minutely and represented more 
faithfully every phase of feeling through which the soul passes in its 
struggles with sin : the clearness of these pictures is rather increased 
than diminished by the allegorical dress in which they are clothed. In 
them Bunyan did but draw upon his own memory, and narrate his own 
experiences. He exhibits, too, that inseparable characteristic of the 
higher order of creative power, a constant sympathy with the simpler 
objects of external nature, and a preference of the great fundamental 
elements of human character. 

§ 14. The Holy War is an allegory typifying, in the siege and cap- 
ture of the City of Mansoul, the struggle between sin and religion in 
the human spirit. Diabolus on the one hand and Immanuel on the 
other are the leaders of the opposing armies. In this narrative we see 
frequent traces of Bunyan's personal experience in military operations, 
such as he had witnessed while serving in the ranks of Cromwell's 
stout and God-fearing army. The narrative, viewed as a tale, is far 
less interesting than the Pilgrhri's Progress, our sympathies not being 
excited by the dangers and escapes of a single hero; and in many 
points the allegory is too refined and complicated to be always readily 
followed. The style, though similar in its masculine vigor to that of 
the former allegory, is less fresh and animated. 

§ 15. One of the most prominent figures in the Long Parliament and 



226 THE AGE OF THE RESTORATION. [Chap. XII. 

the Restoration was Edward Hyde, afterwards Chancellor, better 
known by his title of Earl of Clarendon (1608-1674). Not only was 
he an actor in the political drama of that momentous epoch, but he 
holds an honorable place among English historians by means of h-is 
history of the events in which he had taken part. Descended from a 
geJitle stock, and educated at Oxford, he soon abandoned the profession 
of a barrister for the more exciting struggles of political life. He sat 
in the Short Parliament of 1640, when he was a member of the moder- 
ate party in opposition to the court, and aftei'wards, in the same year, 
was a conspicuous orator in the Long Parliament, at first supporting 
opposition principles, but after a violent quarrel with Hampden and 
the more advanced adherents of the national cause, he gradually passed 
over to the Royalist side. Finding himself at last in open rupture with 
the constitutional party, and even in imminent danger of arrest, he fled 
from London and joined the king at York. From this time Clarendon 
must be regarded among the most faithful, though certainly among the 
most moderate adherents of the Royalist cause. In 1644 ^e was ap- 
pointed member of the Council named to advise and take charge of the 
prince, whom he accompanied to Jersey, and whose exile and vicissi- 
tudes he shared from the execution of Charles I. to the Restoration in 
1660. During the Republic and Protectorate Hyde remained abroad, 
generally in close attendance upon the exiled prince and his little dis- 
reputable court, and generally giving such advice, as, if followed by his 
master and his companions, would have spared them much disgrace 
and many embarrassments. He was also rewarded with the title — 
then but an empty name — of Chancellor, and he was employed in 
several diplomatic services, one to the Court of Madrid, with the object 
of inducing the European cabinets to interfere actively on behalf of the 
exiled house. In this mission he was unsuccessful, so great was the 
terror inspired by the vigor of the great soldier and statesman who then 
swayed the destinies of England, and who first placed his country 
among the first-class powers of Europe. During this time Hyde had 
frequently, like many of his companions, and like the king himself 
while wandering in France and Holland, to support extreme poverty 
and privation. With the death of Cromwell crumbled to pieces the 
structure maintained as well as raised by his genius and patriotism. 
The Restoration took place ; and in the frenzy of triumph which 
greeted the re-established monarchy, it was natural that Hyde should 
reap the reward of his services. He was installed in the high office of 
Chancellor, made first a Baron, and afterwards, in 1661, Earl of Clar- 
endon, and for some time was among the most powerful advisers of the 
court. His popularitj^ however, as well as his favor with the king, 
soon began to decline; for both his virtues and his faults were such as 
to render him disliked. The gravity and austeritj^ of his morals formed 
a strong contrast to the extreme profligacy of the court ; his advice', 
generally in favor of prudence and economy, could not but be distaste- 
ful to the king; and his lectures had the additional disadvantage of 
being tedious ; while, like many other statesmen who have returned fo 



A. D. 160S-1674.] CLARENDON. 227 

power after a long exile, he was not able to accommodate himself to 
the altered state of opinion. At the same time the people looked with 
envj and distrust upon the great wealth which he was accumulating, 
not always bj the most scrupulous means, and upon the spirit of nepo- 
tism which was making the House of Hjde one of the richest and most 
splendid in the country. The magnificence, too, of his palaces and 
gardens gave additional umbrage to public dislike, which was carried 
to the highest pitch when a secret marriage was divulged between his 
daughter Anne and the Duke of York, brother and heir-appai-ent of 
the king. This alliance between a family that every one remembered 
to have risen from the rank of country gentleman and the Royal 
House was looked upon with strong displeasure. Clarendon, hy it, 
became the progenitor of two queens of England, Mary and Anne. 
The minister's unpopularity was completed by the share he had in 
advising Charles to sell Dunkirk to Louis XIV., a measure which ex- 
cited the intensest feeling of national humiliation ; and Clarendon was 
accused by popular rumor of receiving a share of the proceeds of this 
disgraceful compact: his splendid palace in London received the bitter 
nickname of "Dunkirk House." Charles was not a man to sacrifice 
an atom of popularity for the purpose of screening a minister, even 
had he been personally attached to Clarendon. The Chancellor war. 
impeached for High Treason, went into exile, and passed the remainder 
of his life in France, where he died, at Rouen, in 1674. 

§ 16. Clarendon was the author of many state papers and other ofll- 
cial docimients, which exhibit a grave and dignified eloquence ; but his 
great work is the History of the Great Rebellion., as he naturally, in 
his quality of a Royalist, designated the Civil War. This review of 
events embraces a detailed account, rather in the form of Memoirs than 
regular history, of the proceedings from 1625 to 1633, together with a 
narrative of the incidents which led to the Restoration. As the mate- 
rials were derived from the author's personal experience, the work is 
of high value, and places Clarendon among the leading historical 
writers of his age; while the dignity and liveliness of the style, in 
spite of occasional obscuritj^, will ever rank him among the great 
classical English prose-writers. Impartial he cannot be expected to 
be; but his partiality is less frequent and less flagrant than could fairly 
have been anticipated. The moderation of his character has occasion- 
ally led him to hesitate between two conclusions, and even when con- 
victed of partiality he may be said to be rather negatively than posi- 
tivelj' unfair. If we take into consideration the number and complexity 
of the events he had to treat, we shall find fewer serious inaccuracies 
than could have been looked for in his account of facts. Above all he 
is excellent in the delineation of character. These are the parts of his 
work most carefully elaborated, and in them we often find penetration 
in judging and skill in portraying varieties of human nature. 

§ 17. There is perhaps no character, whether personal or literary, 
more perfectly enviable than that of Izaak Walton (1593-1683). He 
was born at Stafford in 1593, and passed his early manhood in London, 



228 THE AGE OF THE RESTORATION. [Chap. XII. 

where he carried on the humble business of a " sempster " or linen- 
draper. At about fifty he was able to retire from trade, probably with 
such a competency as was sufficient for his modest desires, and lived 
till the great age of ninety in ease and tranquillity, enjoying the friend- 
ship of many of the most learned and accomplished men of his time, 
and amusing himself with literature and his beloved pastime of the 
angle. His marriage with a sister of the truly apostolic Bishop Ken 
probably brought him into contact with such men as Donne, Hales, 
Wotton, Chillingworth, Sanderson, and Ussher; and the exquisite 
modesty and simplicity of his character soon ripened such acquaint- 
ance into solid friendships. He produced at different times the Lives 
of five persons, all distinguished for their virtues and accomplishments, 
namely, Donne, Wotton, Hooker, Herbert, and Bishop Sanderson, with 
the first, second, and last of whom he had been intimate. These 
biographies are unlike anything else in literature ; they are written 
with such a tender and simple grace, with such an unaffected fervor of 
personal attachment and simple piety, that they will ever be regarded 
as masterpieces. But Walton's great work is the Co^nplete Angler^ a 
treatise on his favorite art of fishing, in which the precepts for the 
sport are combined with such inimitable descriptions of English river 
scenery, such charming dialogues, and so prevailing a tone of gratitude 
for God's goodness, that the book is absolutel}'^ tcniaiie in literature. 
The passion of the English for all kinds of field-sports and out-of-door 
amusements is closely connected with sensibility to the loveliness of 
rural nature ; and the calm home-scenes of our national scenery are 
reflected with a loving truth in Walton's descriptions of those quiet 
rivers and daisied meadows which the good old man haunted rod in 
hand. The treatise, with a quaint gravity that adds to its charm, is 
thrown into a series of dialogues, first between Piscator, Venator, and 
Auceps, each of whom in turn proclaims the superiority of his favorite 
sport, and afterwards between Piscator and Venator, the latter of whom 
is converted by the angler, and becomes his disciple. Mixed up with 
technical precepts, now become a little obsolete, are an infinite number 
of descriptions of angling-days, together with dialogues breathing 
the sweetest sympathy with natural beauty and a pious philosophy 
that make Walton one of the most eloquen. teachers of virtue and 
religion. The expressions are as pure and sweet and graceful as the 
sentiment; and the occasional occurrence of a little touch of old- 
fashioned innocent pedantry only adds to the indefinable fascination of 
the work, breaking up its monotony like a ripple upon the sunny sur- 
face of a stream. No other literature possesses a book similar to the 
Complete A?2gler, the popularity of which seems likely to last as long 
as the language. A second part was added by Charles Cotton (see 
p. 176), a clever poet, the friend and adopted son of Izaak, and his rival 
in the passion for angling. The continuation, though inferior, breathes 
the same spirit, and, like it, contains many beautiful and simple lyrics 
in praise of the art, ^ 

§ 18. George Savile, Marquess of Halifax (1630-1695), one of 



A. D. 1620-1706.] HALIFAX. EVELYN-. PEPYS. 229 

the most illustrious statesmen of the Restoration, deserves notice on 
account of his political tracts, which, says Macaulay, " well deserve to 
be studied for their literary merit, and fully entitle him to a place 
among English classics." 

One of the most charming, as well as solid and useful, writers of this 
period was John Evelyn (1620-1706), a gentleman of good family and 
considerable fortune, whose life and character -afford a model of what 
is most to be envied and desired. Virtuous, accomplished, and modest, 
he distributed his time between literary and philosophical occupations 
and the never-cloying amusements of rural life. He was one of the 
founders of the delightful art, so successfully practised in England, of 
gardening and planting. His principal works are Sylva, a treatise on 
the nature and management of forest- trees, to the precepts of which, 
as well as to the example of Evelyn himself, the country is indebted for 
its abundance of magnificent timber; and Terra, a work on agriculture 
and gardening. In both of these books we see not only the practical 
good sense of the author, but the benevolence of his heart, and an ex- 
quisite sensibility to the beauties of nature, as well as a profound and 
manly piety. \V^n his feeling for the art of gardening he is the worth} 
successor of Bacon and predecessor of Shenstone. Evelyn has left also 
a Diary, giving a minute account of the state of society in his time; 
and his pictures of the incredible infamy and corruption of the court 
of Charles II., through the abominations of which the pure and gentle 
spirit of Evelyn passed, like the Lady in Comus, amid the bestial rout 
of the enchanter. His description of the tremendous fire of London 
in 1665, of which he was an eye-witness, is the most detailed as well as 
trustworthy and picturesque account of that awful calamity. It was at 
the country house of Evelyn, at Sayes Court, near Deptford, that Peter 
the Great was lodged during his residence in England ; and Evelyn 
gives a lamentable account of the dirt and devastation caused in the 
dwelling and the beautiful garden by the barbarian .monarch and his 
suite. Indeed he obtained from Government compensation for the 
injury done to his property. The Diary, as well as all the other works 
of this good man, abounds in traits of personal character. He, his 
family, and his friends, seem to have formed a little oasis of piety, 
virtue, and refinement, amid the desert of rottenness oftered by the 
higher society of those days ; and his writings will always retain the 
double interest derived from his personal virtues, and the fidelity with 
which they delineate a peculiar phase in the national history. 

§ 19. An original and even comic personality of this era is Samuel 
Pepys (1632-1703), whose individual character was as singular as his 
writings. He was the friendless cadet of an ancient family, but born in 
such humble circumstances that, after receiving some education at the 
Universit}^ he is supposed to have for some time exercised the trade of 
a tailor; and during his whole life he retained a most ludicrous passion 
for fine clothes, which he is never weary of describing with more than 
the gusto of a man-milliner. By the protection of a distant connec- 
tion, Sir Edward Montagu, h« was placed in a subordinate office in 
20 



/ 



230 THE AGE OF THE RESTORATION. [Chap. XII. 

the Admiralty; and by his punctualitj^ honesty, and knowledge of busi* 
ness, he gradually rose to the important post of Secretary in that 
department. He remained many years in this office, and must be con- 
sidered as almost the only honest and able public official connected with 
the Naval administration during the reigns of Charles II. and James II. 
In the former of these the English marine was reduced, by the corrup- 
tion and rapacity of the Court, to the very lowest depth of degradation 
and inefficiency. The successor of Charles was by profession a seaman, 
and on his accession employed all his efforts to restore the service to its 
rormer vigor. Perhaps the onlj^ portion of that miserable King's admin- 
istration which can be regarded with any tiling but contempt arrd hor- 
ror, is the effort he made to improve the condition of the Fleet. To 
this object the honesty and activity of Pepys contributed; and after 
acquiring a sufficient fortune without any serious imputation on his in- 
tegrity, the old Secretary retired from the service to pass the evening of ^ 
his life in well-earned ease. ^During the whole of his long and active 
career, Pepys had amused himself, for the eternal gratitude of posterity, 
in writing down, day by day, in a sort of cipher or short hand, a Diary 
of everything he saw, did, or thought. After having been preserved 
for about a century and a half, this curious record has been deciphered 
and given to the world ; and the whole range of literature does not pre- 
sent a record more curious in itself, or exhibiting a more singular and 
laughable type of human character. Pepj's was not only by nature a 
thorough gossip, curious as an old woman, with a strong taste for 
occasional jollifications, and a touch of the antiquity and curiosity 
hunter, but he was necessarily brought into contact with all classes of 
persons, from the King and his ministers down to the poor half-starvf^d 
sailors whose pay he had to distribute. Writing entirely for himseh', 
Pepys, with ludicrous naivete, sets down the minutest details of his 
gradual rise in wealth and importance, noting every suit of clothes 
ordered by either himself or his wife, which he describes with rapturous 
enthusiasm, and chronicling every quarrel and reconciliation arising 
not of Mrs. Pepj's's frequent and not unfounded fits of jealousy; for he 
is suspiciously fond of frequenting the pleasant but profligate society of 
pretty actresses and singers. The Diary is a complete scandalous 
chronicle of a society so gay and debauched that the simple description 
of what took place is equal to the most dramatic picture of the novelist. 
The statesmen, courtiers, pla^'-ers, and demireps actually live before 
our eyes ; and there is no book that gives so lively a portraiture of one 
of the extraordinary states of society that then existed. All the minutias 
of dress, manners, amusements, and social life are vividly presented to 
us ; and it is really alarming to think of the uproar that would have 
taken place if it had come to light that a careful hand had been 
chronicling every scandal of the day. Pepys's own character — an in- 
imitable mixture of shrewdness, vanity, good sense, and simplicity — 
infinitely exalts the piquancy of his revelations; and his book possesses 
the double interest of the value and curiosity of its matter, and of the 
coloring given to that matter by the oddity of the narrator. 



A. D. 1616-1704.] NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 



231 



§ 20, As a type of the fugitive literature of this age may be men- 
tioned the writings of Sir Roger L'Estrange (1616-1704), an active 
pamphleteer and hack writer in favor of the Royalist party. His sav- 
age diatribes against the opponents of the Court are now almost for- 
gotten, but they are curious as exhibiting a peculiar force of slatig and 
vulgar vivacity which were then regarder^ as smart writing. His works 
are full of the familiar expressions which were current in society; and 
though low in taste, are not without a certain fire. Like another 
writer of the same stamp, Tom Brown, he has given an example of 
how ephemeral must always be the success of that soi-disa?it humorous 
style which depends for its effect upon the employment of the current 
jargon of the town. In every age there are authors who trust to this 
for their popularity ; and the temporary vogue of such writers is gener- 
ally as great as is the oblivion to which they are certain to be con- 
demned. L'Estrange has curiously exemplified his mode of writing in 
a sort of prose paraphrase of the ancient Fables attributed to the mys- 
terious name of ^sop ; and his Life of that imaginary person is a rare 
specimen of the pert familiarity which at that time passed for wit. 



NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 



OTHER WRITERS. 

Db. Walter Chaeleton (1619-1707), physician 
to Charles II. and President of the College of Phy- 
sicians. He was a man of science and a theologian, 
a pliilosopher and an antiquarian. In 1C75 he pub- 
lished A brief Discourse concerning the different 
Wits of Men. One of his best productions was a 
translation of Epicurus'S Moral", 1670. The ren- 
dering is accurate and the English idiomatic. He 
was among the first who accounted for tlie differ- 
ences in men's minds by tlic size and form of the 
brain. 

William Walsh (1663-1708), chiefly a critic, 
scholar, and patron of men of letters, but he himself 
published some fugitive pieces. Ue was member 



of Parliament for Worcestershire, and is men- 
tioned by Pope in the well-known lines, — 

" But why then publish ? Grajiville the polite, 
And knowing Walsh, would tell me I could write." 

Chaeles Montagu, Earl of Halifax (1661- 
171.5), a great patron of letters during the reigns of 
William III. aud xVnue. He himself wrote some 
poems, but oftenest his name appeared on the early 
pages of authors' works, " fed with soft dedication 
all day long." He assisted Prior in the Citi/ Mouse 
and the Countn/ Mouse. He rose to great distinc- 
tion as a politician in the reign of William III., 
when he filled the office of Chancellor of the Ex- 
cliequer, and was raised to the peerage in 1714, soon 
after the accession of George L 



232 KEW DRAMA AND CORRECT POETS. [Chap. XIII 



CHAPTER XIII. 

THE NEW DRAMA AND THE CORRECT POETS. 

} 1. Contrast between the drama of Elizabeth and that of the Restoration. §2. SiB 
George Etherege. § 3. William Wycherley : his life and works. The 
Country Wife and the Plain Dealer. ^ 4. Sir John Vanbrugh. The Relapscy 
the Provoked Wife, the Confederacy, and the Provoked Husband. § 5. George 
Farquhar. The Constant Cmtple, the Inconstant, the Recruiting OJfcer, 
and the Beaux' Stratagem. §6. William Congreve : his life. 7. Iiis works. 
The Old Bachelor. The Double Dealer. Love for Love. The Mourning 
Bride. { 8. Jeremy Collier's attack of the stage : Congreve's reply. Con- 
greve's Way of the World. § 9. Thomas Oiway. The Orphan and Venice 
Preserved. § 10. Nathaniel Lee. Thomas Southerne. Isabella, or the 
Fatal Marriage, and Oroonoko. John Crowne. $ 11. Nicholas Rowe. 
Jane Shore and the Fair Penitent. 12. Mrs. Aphra Behn, Thomas Shad- 
well, and George Lillo. Lillo's George Barnwell, the Fatal Curiosity, 
and Arden of Favevbham. § 13. Character of English poetry of this era. 
Noble poets : Earl of Roscommon. Earl of Rochester. Sir Charles 
Sedley. Duke of Buckinghamshire. Earl of Dorset. § U. John 
Philips and John Pomfret. 

§ 1. In a previous chapter I have endeavored to sketch the immense 
revolution in dramatic literature, which is exemplified in the contrast 
between the age of Elizabeth and that of the Restoration. The theatre 
of the latter period, representing, as the theatre always must, the pre- 
vailing tone of sentiment and of society, is marked by the profound 
corruption which distinguishes the reign of Charles II., and which was 
the natural reaction after the strained morality of the Puritan dominion. 
The new drama differed from the old not only in its moral tone, but quite 
as widely in its literary form. The aim of the great writers who are iden- 
tified with the dawn of our national stage was to delineate nature and 
passion ; and therefore, as nature is multiform, they admitted into their 
serious plays comic scenes and characters, as they admitted eleVated 
feelings and language into their comedies. But at the Restoration the 
artificial distinction between tragedy and comedy was strongly marked, 
and generally maintained with the same severity as vipon the stage of 
France, which had become the chief model of imitation. In the place 
of the Romantic Drama arose the exaggerated, heroic, and stilted 
Tragedy on the one hand, and on the other the Comedy of artificial 
life, which, drawing its materials not from nature but from society, took 
for its aim the delineation not of character but of ma7i7ier$, which is 
indeed the proper object of what is correctly termed comedy in the 
strictest sense. Wit, therefore, now supplanted Humor; and England 
produced, during the seventeenth and part of the eighteenth centuries, a 
constellation of splendid dramatists. Their works are, it is true, now 



A. D. 1636-1715.] ETHEREGE. WYCHERLET. 233 

become almost unknown to the general reader; which is to be attributed 
to their abominable profligacy; but no one can have any conception of 
the powers of the English language and the brilliancy of English wit, 
who has not made acquaintance with these pieces. 

§ 2. This class of writers may be said to begin with Sir George 
Etherege (1636-1694), who was a man of fashion, and employed as 
a diplomatist. He died of a fall at Ratisbon, where he was residing 
as plenipotentiary. His principal work was entitled the Ma?i of 
Mode or Sir Fopli7ig Flutter, that character being the impersonation 
of the fashionable coxcomb of the day. Great vivacity of dialogue, 
combined with striking and unexpected turns of intrigue, form the gen- 
eral peculiarity of all the comedies of this time. Dryden and his once 
popular rival Shadwell must be regarded as the link connecting the 
elder drama with the new style ; and Etherege is the first who embod- 
ied the merits and defects of the latter; though Etherege was destined 
to be far outstripped both in the wit and gayety and in the immorality 
of his scenes. 

§ 3. A greater writer than Etherege, but exhibiting similar charac- 
teristics, was William Wycherley (1640-1715), born in 1640, of a 
good Shropshire family. His father, probably disgusted with the 
gloomy Puritanism of the reigning manners, sent^the future dramatist 
to be educated in France, where he was brought up in the brilliant 
household of the Duke of Montausier. Here the young man aban- 
doned his national faith and embraced Catholicism, probably regard- 
ing the latter as more especially the religion of a gentleman and man 
of fashion. Returning to England, adorned with all the graces of 
French courtliness, and remarkable for the beauty of his pei'son, Wych- 
erley, while nominally studying the Law, became a brilliant figure in 
the gay and profligate society of the day. In his literary career we do 
not find indications of any great precocity of geniiis : his first comedy, 
Love in a Wood, was not acted until he had reached the age of about 
thirty-two ; and the small number of his dramatic works, as well as 
the stj^e of their composition, seems to prove that he was neither very 
original in conception, nor capable of producing anything otherwise 
than by patient labor and careful revision. Love in a Wood was fol- 
lowed, in 1673, the next year, by the Gentle7nan Dancing-Master, the 
plot of which was borrowed from Calderon. His two greatest and 
most successful comedies are the Country Wife, acted in 1675, and the 
Plain Dealer, in 1677. Moving in the most brilliant society of his 
time, Wycherley was engaged in many intrigues, the most celebrated 
being that with the infamous Duchess of Cleveland, one of the innu- 
merable mistresses of Charles II. His grace and gayety attracted the 
notice of the king; and he was selected to superintend the education 
of the young Duke of Richmond, Charles's natural child ; but a secret 
marriage which he contracted with the Countess of Drogheda caused 
him to lose the favor of the court. His union with the lady, which 
commenced in an accidental and even romantic manner, was not such 
as to secure either his happiness or his interest; and after her death 
20* 



234 NEW DRAMA AND CORRECT POETS. [Chap. XIII. 

Wjcherley fell into such distress as to have remained several years in 
confinement for debt. He was at last liberated partly by the assistance 
of James II. ; and on this occasion, probably to gratify the king, he 
again rejoined the Catholic church, from which he had been t^^mpo- 
rarily reconverted. The remainder of Wycherley's life is melancholy 
and ignoble. Having long survived the literary types which were in 
fashion in his youth, with a broken constitution and an embarrassed 
fortune, he continued to thirst with vain impotence after sensual pleas- 
ure and literary glory. With the assistance of Pope, then a mere 
boy, but who had blazed out upon the world with sudden splendor, 
Wycherley concocted a huge collection of stupid and obscene poems, 
which fell dead upon the public. The momentarj^ friendship and bit- 
ter quarrel of the old man and the young critic form a curious and 
instructive picture. Wycherley died in 1715, at an advanced age, hav- 
ing, on his very death-bed, married a young girl of sixteen, with the 
sole purpose of injuring his family, and preventing them from receiv- 
ing his inheritance. 

It is by the Country Wife and the Plaiii Dealer that posterity will 
judge the dramatic genius of Wycherley. Both these plays indicate 
great deficiency of original invention ; for the leading idea of the first 
is evidently borrowed from the Ecole dcs Feinmes of Moliere, and that 
of the second from the same author's Misanthrope. As Macaulay has 
excellently observed, nothing can more clearly indicate the unspeak- 
able irioral corruption of that epoch in our drama, and the degree in 
which that corruption was exemplified by Wycherley, than to observe 
the way in which he has modified, while he borrowed, the data of the 
great French dramatist. The character of Agnes is so managed as 
never to forfeit our respect, while the corresponding personage, Mrs. 
Pinchwife, is in the English comedy a union of the most incredible 
immorality with ccftnplete ignorance of the world; while the leading 
incident of the piece, the stratagem by which Horner blinds the jeal- 
ousy of the husband, is of a nature which it is absolutely impossible 
to qualify in decent language. Nevertheless the intrigue of the piece 
is animated and amusing; the sudden and unexpected turns seem abso- 
lutely to take away one's breath ; and the dialogue, as is invariably the 
case in Wycherley's productions, is elaborated to a high degree of live- 
liness and repartee. In the Plain Dealer is still more painfully appar- 
ent that bluntness of feeling, or rather that total want of sensibility to 
moral impressions, which distinguishes the comic drama of the Resto- 
ration, and none of the writers in that drama more signally than Wych- 
erley. The tone of sentiment in Moliere, as in all creators of the high- 
est order, is invariably pure in its general tendency. Alceste, in spite 
of his faults, is a truly respectable, nay, a noble character. Those very 
faults indeed are but a proof of the nobility of his disposition : " di 
vino dolce e 1' aceto forte," says the Italian adage; and a generous 
heart, irritated past endurance by the smooth hypocrisy of social life, 
and bleeding from a thousand stabs inflicted by a cruel coquette, claims 
our sympathy even in the outbursts of its outraged feeling. But Wych- 



A. D. 1666-1726.] VANBRUGH. 235 

erlej borrowed Alceste; and in his hands the virtuovis and injured hero 
of MoHijre has become " a ferocious sensualist, who believes himself 
to be as great a rascal as he thinks everybody else." "And to make 
the whole complete," proceeds our admirable critic, " W^-cherley does 
not seem to have been aware that he was not drawing the portrait of 
an eminently honest man. So depraved was his moral taste, that, 
while he firmly believed that he was producing a picture of virtue too 
exalted for the commerce of this world, he was really delineating the 
greatest rascal that is to be found, even in his own writings." 

§ 4. The second prominent name in this constellation of brilliant 
comic writers, the stars of which bear a strong general resemblance to 
each other, is that of Sir John Vanbrugh (1666-1726). He was the son 
of a rich sugar-baker in London, probably, as his name indicates, of 
Dutch descent ; and was born, it is not quite certain whether in France or 
England, in 1666. He unquestionably passed some part of his youth in 
the former country ; and he united in his own person the rarely combined 
talents of architect and dramatist. As an architect he is one of the 
glories of the English school of the seventeenth century; and to his 
picturesque imagination we owe many works which, though open to 
criticism on the score of irregularity and a somewhat meretricious lux- 
uriance of style, will always be admired for their magnificent and 
princely richness of invention. Among the most remarkable of these 
are Castle Howard, and Blenheim, the latter being the splendid palace 
constructed at the national expense for the Duke of Marlborough. 
While engaged in this work Vanbrugh was involved in violent alterca- 
tions with that malignant old harpy, the Duchess Sarah; and his 
account of the Cj[uarrel is almost as amusing as a scene in one of his 
own comedies. Vanbrugh was appointed King-at-Arms, and was em- 
ployed, both in this function and as an architect, in many honorable 
posts. Thus he was deputed to carry the insignia of the Garter to the 
Elector of Hanover, and was afterwards knighted by that prince when 
he became King of England as George I., who also appointed him 
Comptroller of the Royal Works. He died in 1726, just before the 
close of that reign. 

Vanbrugh's comedies, the production of which commenced in 1697, are 
the Relapse^ the Provoked Wife, y^sop, the Confederacy, and the first 
sketch oi tht Provoked Husba7id, left unfinished, and afterwards complet- 
ed by Colley Cibber. It still keeps possession of the stage, and is one of 
the best and most popular comedies in the language. Vanbrugh's prin- 
cipal merit is inexhaustible liveliness of character and incident. His dia- 
logue is certainly less elaborate, less intellectual, and less highly finished 
than that of Wycherley : but he excels in giving his personages a readv 
ingenuity in extricating themselves from sudden difficulties ; and one 
great secret of the comic art he possesses to a degree hardly surpassed 
by Moliere himself; viz., the secret depending upon skilful repetition — 
an infallible talisman for exciting comic emotions. His fops, his booby 
squires, his pert chambermaids and valets, his intriguing ladies, his 
romps and his blacklegs, are all drawn from the life, and delineated 



236 NEW DRAMA AND CORRECT POETS. [Chap. XIII. 

"with great vivacity ; but there is a good deal of exaggeration in h's 
characters, an exaggeration which we easily pardon in consideration of 
the amusement they aftbrd us and the consistency with which their per- 
sonality is maintained — the more easily perhaps, as these types no 
longer exist in modern society, and we look upon them with the same 
sort of interest as we do upon the quaint costumes and fantastic atti- 
tudes of a collection of old portraits. In the Relapse Lord Foppington 
is an admirable impersonation of the pompous and suffocating cox- 
comb of those days. Sir Tunbelly Clumsy, the dense, brutal, ignorant 
country squire, a sort of prototype of Fielding's Western, forms an 
excellent contrast with him, and in Hoyden Vanbrugh has given the 
first specimen of a class of characters which he drew with peculiar 
skill, that of a bouncing rebellious girl, full of animal spirits and 
awaiting only the opportunity to break out of all rule. A variety of 
the same character is Corinna in the Co?ifederacy, with tlie difference 
that Hoyden has been brought up in the country, while Corinna, in 
spite of her inexperience, is already thoroughly corrupted, and, as she 
says herself, " a devilish girl at bottom." The most striking character 
in the Provoked Wife is Sir John Brute, whose drunken, uproarious 
blackguardism was one of Garrick's best impersonations. The Confed- 
eracy is perhaps Vanbrugh's finest comedy in point of plot. The two 
old usurers and their wives, whose weakness is plaj^ed upon by Dick 
Amlet and his confederate sharper Brass, Mrs. Amlet, the marchande 
de la toilette^ the equivocal mother of her graceless scamp, Corinna, 
and the maid Flippanta — all the dramatis personre are amusing in the 
highest degree. We feel indeed that we have got into exceedingly bad 
company; for all the men are rascals, and the women no better than 
they should be; but their life and conversation, "pleasant but wrong," 
are invariably animated and gay : and perhaps the very profligacy of 
their characters, by forbidding any serious sympathy with their fate, 
only leaves us freer to follow the surprising incidents of their career. 
The unfinished scenes of the comedy left by Vanbrugh, and afterwards 
completed under the title of the Provoked Hiishand, promised to be 
elaborated by the author into an excellent work. The journey to Lon- 
don of the country squire. Sir Francis Wronghead, and his inimitable 
family, is worthy of Smollett himself. The description of the caval- 
cade, and the interview between the new "Parliament-Man" in search 
of a place and the minister, are narrated with the richest humor. All 
the sentimental portions of the piece, the punishment and repentance 
of Lady Townley, and the contrast between her and her " sober " sister- 
in-law Lady Grace, were the additions of CoUey Cibber, who lived at a 
time when the moral or sermonizing element was thought essential in 
comedy. This part of the intrigue, however, had the honor of being 
the prototype of Sheridan's delightful scenes between Sir Peter and 
Lady Teazle in the School for Scandal. In brilliancy of dialogue Van- 
brugh is inferior to Wycherley; but his high animal spirits, and his 
extraordinary power of contriving sudden incidents, more than compen- 
sate for the deficiency. In Vanbiagh perhaps there is more of mtnd^ 
but less of intellect. 



A. D. 1678-1708.] FARQUIIAR. 237 

§ 5. George FARquHAR (1678-1708) was born at Londonderry in 
Ireland in 1678, and in his personal as well as his literary character he 
exemplifies the merits and the defects of his nation. He received some 
education at college, but at the early age of eighteen embraced the pro- 
fession of an actor. Having accidentally wounded one of his comrades 
in a fencing-match, he quitted the stage and served for some time in 
the army, in the Earl of Orrery's regiment. His military experience 
enabled him to give very lively and faithful representations of gay, 
rattling officers, and furnished him with materials for one of his pleas- 
antest comedies. His dramatic productions, which were mostly written 
after his return to his original profession, are more numerous than 
those of his predecessors, and consist of seven plays : Love and a 
Bottle, th& Constant Couple, the Liconstattt, the Stage Coach, the T'cvin 
Rivals, the Recruiting- Officer, and the Beaux' Stratagem. These were 
produced in rapid succession, for the literary career of poor Farquhar 
was compressed into a short space of time — between 1698, when the 
first of the above pieces was acted, and the author's early death about 
1708. The end of this brief course, which terminated at the age of 
thirty, was clouded by ill health and poverty; for Farquhar was 
induced to marry a lady who gave out, contrary to truth, that she 
was possessed of some fortune. 

The works of Farquhar are a faithful reflection of his gaj', loving, 
vivacious character; and it appears that down to his early death, not 
only did they go on increasing in joyous animation, but exhibit a con- 
stantly augmenting skill and ingenuity in construction, his last works 
being incomparably his best. Among them it will be unnecessary to 
dwell minutely on any but the Cofistant Couple (the intrigue of which 
is extremely animated), the Incojistant, and chiefly the Recruiting 
Officer and the Beaux' Stratage7n. In Farquhar's pieces we are de- 
lighted with the overflow of high animal spirits, generally accompanied, 
as in nature, by a certain frankness and generosity. We readily pardon 
the peccadillos of his personages, as we attribute their escapades less 
to innate depravity than to the heat of blood and the effervescence of 
youth. His heroes often engage in deceptions and tricks, but there 
is no trace of the deep and deliberate rascality which we see in 
Wycherley's intrigues, or of the thorough scoundrelism of Vanbrugh's 
sharpers. The Beaux' Stratagem is decidedly the best constructed of 
our author's plaj'^s ; and the expedient of the two embarrassed gentle- 
men, who come down into the country disguised as a master and his 
servant, though not perhaps very probable, is extremely well conducted, 
and furnishes a series of lively and amusing adventures. The contrast 
between Archer and Aimwell and Dick Amlet and Brass in Vanbrugh's 
Confederacy, shows a higher moral tone in Farquhar, as compared 
with his predecessor; and the numerous characters with whom they 
are brought in contact — Boniface the landlord. Cherry, Squire Sullen, 
and the inimitable Scrub, not to mention Gibbet the highwayman, and 
Father Foigard the Irish-French Jesuit — are drawn with never-failing 
vivacity. Passages, expressions, nay, sometimes whole scenes, may ba 



238 NEW DRA3IA AND CORRECT POETS. [Chap. XIII. 

found among the dramas of Farquhar, stamped with that rich humor 
and oddity which engrave them on the memory. Thus Boniface's 
laudation of his ale, " as the saying is," Squire Sullen's inimitable con- 
versation with Scrub: " What day of the week is it.? Scrub. Sunday, 
sir. Std. Sunday.? Then bring me a dram ! " And Scrub's suspicions : 
" I am sure they were talking of me, for they laughed consumedly ! " — ■ 
such traits prove that Farquhar possessed a true comic genius. The 
scenes in the Recruiting Officer, where Sergeant Kite inveigles the two 
clowns to enlist, and those in which Captain Plume figures, are also of 
high merit. In those plays upon which I have not thought it necessary 
to insist, as the Constant Couj)le and the Inconstant, the reader will not 
fail to find scenes worked up to a great brilliancy of comic effect; as, 
for example, the acffnirable interview between Sir Harry Wildair and 
Lady Lurewell, when the envious coquette endeavors to make him 
jealous of his wife, and he drives her almost to madness by dilating on 
his conjugal happiness. Throughout Farquhar's plays the predominant 
qualitj^ is a gay geniality, which more than compensates for his less 
elaborate brilliancy in sparkling repartee. He seems always to write 
from his heart ; and therefore, though we shall in vain seek in his 
dramas for a very high standard of morality, his writings are free from 
that inhuman tone of blackguard heartlessness which disgraces the 
comic literature of the time. 

§ 6. The dramatic literature of this epoch naturally divides itself 
into the two heads of Comedy and Tragedy; and having now to speak 
of an author whose reputation in his own ^ay was unrivalled in both 
departments, I shall place him here as a sort of link connecting them 
together. This was William Congreve (1670-1729), who will always 
stand at the very head of the comic dramatists, while he certainly occu- 
pies no undistinguished place among the tragedians. He was born in 
Yorkshire of an ancient and honorable family, in 1670; and bis father 
being employed in a considerable post in Ireland, the youth received 
his education in that country, first at a school in Kilkenny, and after- 
wards at the University of Dublin. Here he acquired a degree of schol- 
arship, particularly in the department of Latin literature, which placed 
him far above the generality of contemporary writers of belles Icttrcs, 
and he came to London, nominally to study the law in the Temple, but 
really to play a distinguished part in the fashionable and intellectual 
circles of the time. During his whole life he seems to have been the 
darling of society; and possessing great personal and conversational 
attractions, together with a cold an^ somewhat selfish character, was 
the perfect type of what Thackeray, adopting the expressive slang of 
our day, has qualified as the "fashionable literary swell." He thirsted 
after fame as a man of elegance and as a man of letters ; but as the 
literary profession was at that time in a very degraded social position, 
he was tormented by the difficulty of harmonizing the two incompatible 
aspirations : and it is related that when Voltaire paid him a visit he 
affected the character of a mere gentleman, upon which the French wit, 
with equal acuteness and sense, justly reproved his vanity by saying. 



A. D. 1670-1729.] CONGREYE. 239 

"If jou had been a mere gentleman I should not have come to see 
you." Congreve's career was singularly auspicious : the brilliancy of 
his early works received instant recompense in solid patronage. Suc- 
cessive and hostile ministers rivalled each other in rewarding him : he 
obtained numerous and lucrative sinecures ; and by his prudence was 
able not only to frequent, as an honored guest, the society of the 
greatest and most splendid of his time, but to accumulate a large for- 
tune. A disorder of the eyes, under which he long suffered, ultimately 
terminated in blindness ; but neither this infirmity nor the gout could 
diminish the grace and gayety of his conversation, or render him less 
acceptable in company. He was regarded by the poets, from Dryden 
to Pope, with enthusiastic admiration : the former hailed his entrance 
upon the literary arena with fervent praise, and in some very beautiful 
and touching lines named Congreve his successor in that poetical 
throne he had so long and gloriously filled, imposing upon his friend- 
ship the task of defending his memory from slander; and Pope, when 
publishing his great work of the translation of Homer, passed over the 
powerful and the illustrious to dedicate his book to the patriarch of 
letters. Congreve, like most men of fashion at that time, was cele- 
brated for many bonnes fortunes : his most durable connection was with 
the fascinating and generous Mrs. Bracegirdle, so famous for the ex- 
cellency of her acting and the beauty of her person. In his old age, 
however, Congreve appears to have neglected her for the Duchess of 
Marlborough, daughter and inheritress of the great Duke; and at his 
death he bequeathed the bulk of his fortune, amounting to the large 
sum of 10,000/., not to the comparatively needy actress, nor to his own 
relatives, then comparatively poor, but to the Duchess, in whose im- 
mense revenue such a legacy was but as a drop in the ocean. This 
circumstance furnishes an additional proof that Congreve was more 
remarkakjf for ostentation than for generosity or warmth of heart. 
He died in 1729, and was honored with a magnificent and almost na- 
tional funeral. His body lay in state in the Jerusalem Chamber, and 
was followed to the tomb in Westminster Abbey by all that was most 
illustrious in England. 

§ 7. The literary career of Congreve begins with a novel of insig- 
nificant merit, which he published under the psendonyme of Cleophib ; 
out the real inauguration of his glory was the representation, in 1693, 
cf his first comedy, the Old BacJielor. This work, the production of a 
young man of twenty-three, was received by the public and by the 
critics with a tempest of applause. In spite of the bad construction 
and improbability of the intrigue, anii of the conv,entional and so to 
say mechanical conception of the characters, it was easy to foresee in 
if all the peculiar merits which belong to the greatest comic dramatists 
of the eighteenth century. The chief of these is the unrivalled ease 
and brilliancy of the dialogue. Congreve's scenes are one incessant 
flash and sparkle of the finest repartee; the dazzling rapier-thrusts of 
wit and satiric pleasantry succeed each other without cessation ; and 
the wit, as is always the case wheu of the highest order, is allied ta 



210 NEW DRA3IA AND CORRECT POETS. [Chap. XJIl. 

shrewd sense and acute observation of mankind. Indeed the main 
defect of Congreve's dialogue is a plethora of ingenious allusion ; for 
he falls into the error of making his fools and coxcombs as brilliant as 
his professed wits — a fault common to most of the authors of his 
school. But the quality in which he stands alone is his skill in divest- 
ing this brilliant intellectual sword-play of every shade of formality 
and constraint. His conversations are an exact copy of refined and 
intellectual conversation, though of course containing far more bril- 
liancy than any real conversation ever exhibited. This air of consum- 
mate ease and idiomatic vivacity gives to his style a peculiar flavor 
which no other author has attained; and perhaps no English writer 
furnishes so many examples of the capacity of our language as a 
vehicle for intellectual display. I have said that the characters in the 
Old Bachelor are conventional ; they are nevertheless exceedingly 
amusing : as, for example, Captain Bluff", a reproduction of the bullj'^- 
ing braggadocio so frequently placed upon the stage. This hero's 
mention of Hannibal is deliciously comic : " Hannibal was a very 
pretty felloAv in those days, it must be granted. But, alas ! sir, were 
he alive now he would be nothing — nothing in the earth 1 " This is 
of the strain of Parolles, of Bessus, and of Bobadil. We can hardly 
wonder at, though we may not confirm, the enthusiasm of Congreve's 
contemporaries, when, with Dryden at their head, they hailed this 
brilliant debutant as the successor and the more than rival of Fletcher 
and Shakspeare. 

Congreve's second theatrical venture was the Double Dealer^ acted in 
1694. The success of this comedy was much less than that of its pred- 
ecessor ; and the comparative failure is to be attributed to the admix- 
ture, in the plot, of characters and incidents too gloomy and tragic to 
harmonize with the follies and vanities that form the woof of comedy. 
The wickedness of Lady Touchwood is of a tint too funerpil to har- 
monize with the brilliant and shifting colors of comedy ; and the vil- 
lanous plots of Maskwell are so intricate and complex that the puzzled 
reader is unable to follow them. As in Shakspeare's Comedy of Errors^ 
the confusion betvveen the two pairs of twins is so complete that the 
reader, as much embarrassed as the personages in the piece, loses the 
thread of the story, and therefore the interest which is the source of 
pleasure, so in Congreve's play the abstruseness of the intrigue defeats 
its own purpose. Many of the minor scenes and characters, however, 
are full of comic verve. 

Congreve's masterpiece is Love for Love, which was acted in 1695. 
This is one of the most perfect ftomedies in the whole range of litera- 
ture. The intrigue is effective, and the characters exhibit infinite 
variety, and relieve each other with unrelaxing spirit. The pretended 
madness of Valentine, the unexpected turns in his passion for Angelica, 
Sir Sampson Legend, the doting old astrologer Foresight, Mrs. Frail, 
]Miss Prue (a character something like Vanbrugh's Corinna, or Wj^chei*- 
lej^'s Hoyden), and above all the inimitable Ben — the first attempt to 
portray on the stage the rough, unsophisticated sailor — the whole 



A. D. 1650-1726.] COLLIER. 241 

dramatis perso7ice^ down to the most insignificant, are a crowd of pic- 
turesque and well-contrasted oddities. The scene in which Sir Sampson 
endeavors to persuade his son to renounce his inheritance, that between 
Valentine and Trapland the old usurer (almost as good as Don Juan's 
reception of M. Dimanche), the arrival of Ben from sea, and his con- 
versation with Miss Prue, — these, and many more, are the highest 
ej:altation of comedy. Sir Sampson is one of those big, blustering 
characters that make their waj' by noise and cor^fidence ; he has some- 
thing in common with Ben Jonson's Mammon, and was the model 
whence Sheridan aftenvards copied his Sir Anthony Absolute. 

Two years after this triumph Congreve burst forth upon the world 
in a completely new department of the drama — that of tragedy. He 
produced the Mourning Bride, which was received with no less ardent 
encomiums than the comedies. This piece is written in that pompous, 
solemn, and imposing strain which the adoption of French or classical 
models had rendered universal, and which Dryden had adopted as far 
as his bold and muscular genius, so rebellious to authority, permitted. 
The distress in this tragedy is extremely deep, but Congreve does not 
succeed in touching the heart. The. chief merits of the piece consist in 
dignified passages of declamation, or what the French call tirades; 
and there are several descriptive passages of considerable power and 
melody, though their merit is rather that of narrative than dramatic 
poetry. Of this kind is the perpetually quoted description of a temple, 
which the extravagant eulogy of Johnson, by absurdly comparing it to 
pictorial passages in Shakspeare, has deprived of its due meed of 
applause. If " faint praise " " damns," exaggerated laudation damns 
still more fatally. 

§ 8. About this time took place an event of equal importance to 
Congreve and to the literary character of that age. This was the 
attack directed by Jeremy Collier (1650-1726), an ardent nonjuring 
clergyman, against the profaneness and immorality of the English 
stage. His pamphlet was written with extraordinary fire, wit, and 
energy; and the evil which he combated was so general, so inveterate, 
and so glaring, that he immediately ranged upon his side all moral and 
thinking men in the nation. He anatomized with a vigorous and un- 
sparing scalpel the foul ulcer of theatrical immorality, and cauterized 
it with such merciless satire that Dryden, powerful as he was in contro- 
versy, remained silent out of shame. The gauntlet thrown down by 
Collier, and which conscious guilt prevented Dryden from lifting, was 
taken up by Congreve ; but the defence he made was poor, and the vic- 
fory remained, both as regards morality and wit, on the side of Collier. 
The controversy had the eifect of inaugurating a better tone in the 
Jrama and in lighter literature in general ; and from that period dates 
the gradual but rapid improvement which has ended in rendering the 
literature of England the purest and healthiest in Europe. 

Congreve's last dramatic work was the Way of the World, performed 
in 1700. Its success was not great, although its dialogue exhibits the 
rare charm which never deserted him, and though it contains in Milla- 
21 



242 NEW DRAMA AND CORRECT POETS. [Chap. XIII. 

mant one of the most delicious portraits of a gay, triumphant beauty, 
coquette, and fine lady ever placed upon the stage. It is like the porce- 
lain figures in old Dresden china; crisp, sparkling, highly j-et delicately 
colored, filling the mind with images of grace and fancy. In his old 
age the poet produced a volume of fugitive and miscellaneous trifles, 
which do not much rise above the level of a class of composition 
extremely fashionable at that period. 

§ 9. Among the exclusively tragic dramatists of the age of Drj-den 
the first place belongs to Thomas Otway (1651-1655), -^yn died, after 
a life of wretchedness and irregularity, at the early age of thirty- four. 
He received a regular education at Winchester School and Oxford, 
and very early embraced the profession of the actor, for which he had 
no natural aptitude, but which familiarized him with the technical 
requirements of theatrical writing. He produced in the earlier part of 
his career three tragedies, Alcibiades, Don Carlos, and Titus and Bere- 
nice, which may be regarded as his first trial-pieces; and about 1677 he 
served some time in a dragoon regiment in Flanders, to which he had 
been appointed by the protection of a patron. Dismissed from his 
post in consequence of irregularities of conduct, he returned to the 
stage, and in the years extending from 1680 to his death, he wrote four 
more tragedies, Caius Marcius, the Orpha7i, the Soldier's Fortune, and 
Venice Preserved. All these works, with the exception of the Orphan 
and Venice Preserved, are now nearly forgotten ; but the glory of 
Otway is so firmly established upon these latter, that it will probably 
endure as long as the language itself. The life of this unfortunate poet 
was an uninterrupted series of poverty and distress ; and his death has 
frequentlj^ been cited as a striking instance of the miseries of a literary 
career. It is related that, when almost starving, the poet received a 
guinea from a charitable friend, on which he rushed off to a baker's 
shop, bought a roll, and was choked while ravenously swallowing the 
first mouthful. It is not quite certain whether this painful anecdote is 
strictly true, but it is incontestable that Otway's end, like his life, was 
miserable. How far his misfortunes were unavoidable, and how far 
attributable to the poet's own improvidence, it is now impossible to 
determine. Otway, like Chatterton, like Gilbert, like Tasso, and like 
Cervantes, is generally adduced as an example of the miserable end 
of genius, and of the world's ingratitude to its greatest benefactors. 

As a tragic dramatist Otway's most striking merit is his pathos ; and 
he possesses in a high degree the power of uniting pathetic emotion 
with the expression of the darker and more ferocious passions. The 
distress in his pieces is carried to that intense and almost hysterical 
pitch which we see so frequently in Ford and Beaumont and Fletcher, 
and so rarely in Shakspeare. The sufferings of Monimia in the Orphan, 
and the moral agonies inflicted upon Belvidera in Venice Preserved, are 
carried to the highest pitch, but we see tokens of the essentially second- 
rate quality of Otway's genius the moment he attempts to delineate 
madness. Belvidera's ravings are the expression of a disordered fancy, 
and not, like those of Lear or of Ophelia, the lurid flashes of reason 



A. D. 1651-1692.] OTWAY. LEE. 243 

and consciousness lighting up for an instant the tossings of a mind 
agitated to its profoundest depths. In Vejttce Preserved Otway has not 
attempted to preserve historical accuracj^ but he has succeeded in pro- 
ducing a very exciting and animated plot, in M^hich the w^eak and 
uxorious Jaffier is well contrasted with the darker traits of his friend 
and fellow-conspirator Pierre, and the inhuman harshness and cruelty 
of the Senator Priuli with the ruffianly thirst for blood and plunder in 
Renault. The frequent declamatory scenes, reminding the reader of 
Dryden, as, for instance, the quarrels and reconciliation of Pierre and 
Jaffier, the execution of the two friends, and the despair of Belvidera, 
are worked up to a high degree of excellence ; and Otway, with the 
true instinct of dramatic fitness, has introduced, as elements of the deep 
distress into which he has plunged his principal characters, many of 
those familiar and domestic details from which the high classical dram- 
atist would have shrunk as too ignoble. Otway in many scenes of 
this play has introduced what may be almost called comic matter, as 
in the amorous dotage of the impotent old senator and the courtesan 
Aquilina; but these, though powerfully and naturally delineated, are 
of too disgusting and odious a nature to be fit subjects for representa- 
tion. Otwa3''s stj'le is vigorous and racy ; the reader will incessantly 
be reminded of Dryden, though the author of Vetiice Preserved is far 
superior to his great master in the quality of pathos ; and in reading 
his best passages we are perpetually struck by a sort of flavor of 
Ford, Heywood, Beaumont, and other great masters of the Eliza- 
bethan era. 

§ 10. No account of the drama of this period would be complete 
without some mention of Nathaniel Lee (d. 1692), a tragic poet who 
not only had the honor of assisting Dryden in the composition of sev- 
eral of his pieces, but who, in spite of adverse circumstances, and in 
particular of several attacks of insanity, one of which necessitated his 
confinement during four years in Bedlam, possessed and deserved a 
high reputation for genius. He was educated at Westminster School 
and Cambridge, and was by profession an actor: he died in extreme 
poverty in 1692. His original dramatic works consist of eleven trage- 
dies, the most celebrated of which is The Rival ^tieens, or Alexander 
the Great, in which the heroic extravagance of the Macedonian con- 
queror is relieved by amorous complications arising from the attach- 
ment of the two strongly-opposed characters of Roxana and Statira. 
Among his other works may be enumerated Theodosius, Mithridates, 
and the pathetic drama of Lucius Junius Brutus, the interest of which 
turns on the condemnation of the son by the father. In all these plays 
we find a sort of wild and exaggerated tone of imagery, someUmes 
reminding us of Marlowe : but Lee is far superior in tenderness to the 
author of Faustus ; nay, in this respect he surpasses Dryden. In the 
beautiful but feverish bursts of declamatory eloquence which are fre- 
quent in Lee's plays, it is possible to trace something of that violence 
and exaggeration which are perhaps derived from the tremendous 
malady of which he was so long a victim. 



244 NUW DRAMA AND CORRECT POETS. [Chap. XIII. 

Thomas Southerne (1659-1746) was born at Dublin, but passed the 
greater part of his life in England. He studied the Law in the Temple, 
but quitted that profession for the army : it is known that he served as 
a captain in one of the corps employed in the suppression of the unfor- 
tunate Duke of Monmouth's rebellion, and in all probability was present 
at the battle of Sedgemoor. The close of his life was tranquil and sur- 
rounded with competence. Southerne was the author of ten plays, the 
most conspicuous of which are the tragedies of Isabella^ or the Fatal 
Marriage, and the pathetic drama of Oroonoko. The latter is founded 
upon the true adventures of an African prince : the subject is said to 
have been given to Southerne by Aphra Behn, of whom we shall have 
to say a few words presently, and who, being the daughter of a govern- 
or of Surinam, where the events took place, was personally acquainted 
both with the incidents and the individuals which form the groundwork 
of the story. The sufferings of the generous and unhappy African, torn 
by the slave-trade from his country and his home, and his love for 
Imoinda, furnish good materials to the pathetic genius of Southerne, 
who was the first English author to hold up to execration the cruelties 
of that infernal traffic that so long remained a stain upon our country. 
The distress in Isabella is also carried to a high degree of intensity, and 
tenderness and pathos may be asserted to be the primary characteristics 
of Southerne's dramatic genius. 

Another minor, but not unimportant, name among the dramatists of 
this period is that of John Crowne (1661-1698). Among the seven- 
teen pieces which he produced, I may mention the tragedy of Tkyestes 
and the comedy entitled Sir Courtly Nice. Both of these works pos- 
sess considerable merit, though the revolting nature of the legend which 
forms the subject of the first is of a nature that ought to exclude it from 
the dramatist's attempt. We may remember that these dreadful Greek 
traditions had previously been preferred by Chapman. Crowne is re- 
markable for the beauty of detached passages of sentiment and descrip- 
tion, and in particular bears some resemblance to his predecessor in the 
dignity and elegance with which he inculcates those moral precepts 
which Euripides was so fond of introducing, and which in the Greek 
Drama are called yxw^iai, 

§ 11. In success in life and social position Nicholas Rowe (1673- 
1718) was a happy contrast to the wretched career of many dramatists 
by no means his inferiors in talent. He was born in 1673, and studied 
in the Temple, employing his leisure hours in writing for the stage. 
He was cordially received in the brilliant and literary society of his day, 
and was a member of that intellectual society which surrounded Pope, 
Swift, Arbuthnot, and Prior, and who were bound together by such 
strong ties of intimacy and friendship. It is said, however, that Rowe, 
though much admired for his social accomplishments, was regarded as 
of a somewhat cold and selfish nature ; in short, there seem to be many 
elements of character in common between him and Congreve. He was 
not only in possession of an independent fortune, but was sple'ndidly 
rewarded for his literary exertions by the gift of many lucrative places 



A. D. 1673-1789] ROWE. BEEN-. 245 

in the patronage of Government. Thus he wai Poet Laureate and Sur- 
vej^or of the Customs, Clerk of the Council in the service of the Prince 
of Wales, and Clerk of the Presentations. He was an example of that 
mode which for some time was general in England, of rewarding with 
profitable or sinecure appointments merit of a literary kind. The pro- 
fession of letters enjoyed a transient gleam of prosperity and consid- 
eration ; the period preceding and that following this epoch being re- 
markable for the want of social consideration — nay, the degradation 
attaching to the author's profession. It was not till the vast extension 
of the reading public, by offering the writer the most honorable form of 
recompense and the purest motives for exertion, that he could be relieved 
from the humiliation of a servile dependence on individual patrons, 
on the one hand, and the fluctuations of temporary success and prevail- 
ing poverty, on the other. Rowe was the first who undertook an 
edition of Shakspeare upon true critical and philological principles ; 
and, though his work is marked by the inevitable deficiency of an age 
when the art of the commentator, as applied to an author of the six- 
teenth century, was still in its infancy, yet his edition gives some ear- 
nest of better things, and has, at all events, the merit of exhibiting a 
profound and loyal admiration of the great poet's genius. Rowe died 
in 1718. His dramatic productions amount to seven, the principal being 
yane Shore, the Fair Penitent, and Lady Jane Grey, all, of course, 
tragedies. Tenderness is Rowe's chief dramatic merit; in the diction 
of his works we incessantly trace the influence of his study of the man- 
ner of the great Elizabethan playwrights. This imitation is often only 
superficial ; and in some cases, as, for example, in Jane Shore, extends 
little farther than an aping of the quaintness of the elder authors ; but 
in many points Rowe did all that a nature, I suspect not very impres- 
sionable, could do to catch some echo of those deep tones of pathos 
and passion that thrill through the writings of the great elder dram- 
atists. In the Fair Pe?iite7it we have an almost intolerable load of sor- 
row accumulated on the head of the heroine. It is curious that the 
character of the seducer in this play, " the gallant, gay Lothario," 
should have become the proverbial type of the faithless lover — just as 
Don Juan has been in our own time — and should have furnished 
Richardson with the outline which that great painter of character 
afterwards filled up so successfully in his masterly portrait of Love- 
lace. 

§ 12. Mrs. Aphra Behn (d. 1689), celebrated in her day under the 
poetical appellation of Astraea, enjoyed some reputation for the gayety, 
and, I may add, for the immorality, of her comedies. She was one of 
those equivocal characters, half literary, half political adventurers, who 
naturally a|>pear in times of public agitation. The daughter of a gov- 
ernor of Surinam, she had passed her youth in that colony, and, coming 
to Europe, was much mixed up in the obscurer intrigues of the Restora- 
tion. She resided some time in Holland, and seems to have rendered 
services to Charles II. as a kind of political spy. She died in 16S9, and 
her novels, as well as comedies, though now forgotten, may be consulted 
21 * 



246 NEW DRAMA AND CORRECT POETS. [Chap. XIII. 

as curious evidences of the state of literary and social feeling that pre- 
vailed at that agitated epoch. 

The only other names that need be cited among the dramatists of this 
period are those of Shadwell and Lillo. Thomas Shadwell (1640- 
1692) wrote seventeen plays, but is now chiefly known by Dryden's 
satire as the hero of Mac-F'lecknoe, and the Og of Adsaiojn and Achito- 
fhel. On the Revolution, he succeeded Dryden as Poet Laureate. 
George Lillo (1693-1739) is in many respects a remarkable and sin- 
gular literary figure. He was a jeweller in London, and appears to 
have been a prudent and industrious tradesman, and to have accumu- 
lated ^ fair competence. His dramatic works, which were probably 
composed as an amusement, consist of a peculiar species of what may 
be called tragedies of domestic life, in some respects resembling those 
drames which are at present so popular in France. The principal of 
them are George Barnivell, WiQ Fatal Curiosity, and Ardcji of Fovers- 
hani. Lillo composed sometimes in verse and sometimes in prose; 
he based his pieces upon remarkable examples of crime, generally in 
the middle ranks of society, and worked up the interest to a high pitch 
of intensity. In George Barit'^ell is traced the career of a London 
shopman — a real person — who is lured by the artifices of an aban- 
doned woman and the force of his own passion first into embezzlem.ent, 
and then into the murder of an uncle. The hero of the play, like his 
prototype in actual life, expiates his offences on the scaffold. The sub- 
ject of the Fatal Curiosity, Lillo's most powerful work, is far more 
dramatic in its interest. A couple, reduced by circumstances, and by 
the absence of their son, to the lowest depths of distress, receive^into 
their house a stranger, who is evidently in possession of a large sum ; 
while he is asleep, they determine to assassinate him for the purpose 
of plunder, and afterwards discover in their victim their long-lost son. 
It will be remembered that the tragic story of Arden of Fever sha7n, a 
tissue of conjugal infidelity and murder, was an event that really took 
place in the reign of Elizabeth, and had furnished materials for a very 
popular drama, attributed, but on insufficient evidence, to Shakspeare 
among other playwrights of the time. It was again revived by Lillo, 
and treated in his characteristic manner — a manner singularly intense 
in spirit, though prosaic in form. Indeed, the very absence of imagina- 
tion in this writer may have contributed to the effect he produced, by 
augmenting the air of reality in his conceptions. He has something 
of the gloom and sombre directness which we see in Webster or Tour- 
neur, but he is entirely devoid of the wild, fantastic fancy which distin- 
guishes that great writer. He is real, but with the reality, not of Walter 
Scott, but of Defoe. 

§ 13. From the time of Dryden to about the end of the*first quarter 
of the eighteenth century English poetry exhibits a character equally 
removed from the splendid brilliancy of the epoch of Elizabeth and the 
picturesque intensity of the new Romantic school. Correctness and 
good sense were the qualities chieflj' aimed at; and if the writers avoid 
the abuse of ingenious allusion which disfigures the productions of 



A. D. 1634-1708.] R0SC0M3I0N. SEDLEY. PHILIPS. 247 

Cowley, Donne, and Qiiarles, they are equally devoid of the passionate 
and intense spirit which afterwards animated our poetry. It is remark- 
able how many of the writers of this time were men of rank and fash- 
ion : their literary efforts were regarded as the elegant accomplishment 
of amateurs ; and, though their more ambitious productions are generally 
didactic and critical, and their lighter works graceful and harmonious 
songs, they must be regarded less as the deliberate results of literary 
labor than as the pastime of fashionable dilettanti. Earl of Roscom- 
mon (1634-16S5), the nephew of the famous Strafford, produced a poeti- 
cal Essay on Translated Verse-and a version of the Art of Poetry from 
Horace, which were received by the public and the men of letters with 
an extravagance of praise attributable to the respect then entertained 
for any intellectual accomplishment in a nobleman. Earl of Roches- 
ter (1647-16S0), so celebrated for his insane debaucheries and the 
witty eccentricities which made him one of the most prominent figures 
in the profligate court of Charles II., produced a number of poems, 
chiefly songs and fugitive lyrics, which proved how great were the 
natural talents he had wasted in the most insane extravagance : his 
death-bed conversion and repentance produced by the arguments of 
Bishop Burnet, who has left an interesting and edifying account of his 
penitent's last moments, show that, amid all his vices, Rochester's 
mind retained the capacity for better things. Many of his productions 
are unfortunately stained with such profanity and indecency, that they 
deserve the oblivion into which they ai-e now fallen. 

Sir Charles Sedley (1639-1701) was another glittering star in the 
court firmament; he was a most accomplished gentleman, and his life 
was far more regular, as well as more tranquil, than that of Rochester: 
his comedy, the Mulberry Gardeji, is not devoid of gaj^ety and wit, 
and contains several songs of merit. Many other slight lyrics prove 
that Sedley possessed the grace, airiness, and ingerwaity, which are the 
principal requisites of this species of writing. 

To the same category may be ascribed the Duke of Buckingham 
(Sheffield) (1649-1720) and Earl of Dorset (1637-1705), perfect speci- 
mens of the aristocratic literary dilettante of those days. The former 
is best known by his Essay on Poetry, written in the heroic couplet ; 
the latter by his charming, playful song- — To all you ladies noiv on 
land, said to have been written at sea on the eve of an engagement 
with the Dutch fleet under Opdam. It is addressed by the courtly 
volunteer to the ladies of Whitehall, and breathes the gay and gallant 
spirit that animates the chanson jnilitaire, in which the French so much 
excel. 

§ 14. The onlj- poets of any comparative importance, not belonging 
to the higher classes of society, were Philips and Pomfret, both belong- 
ing to the end of the seventeenth century. John Philips (1676-170S) 
is the author of a half-descriptive, half-didactic poem on the manu- 
facture of Cider, written upon the plan of the Georgics of Virgil ; but 
he is now known to the general reader hy his Splendid Shilling, a 
plcasantyV// d'csprit, in which the learned and pompous style of Milton 



248 NEW DRAMA AND CORRECT POETS. [Chap. XIII. 

is agreeably parodied, by being applied to the most trivial subject. Such 
parodies are common, and by no means difficult of execution ; but 
among them there will always be some which, either from their origi- 
nality as first attempts in a particular style, or from the peculiar felicity 
of the imitation, will excite and retain a higher popularity than gen- 
erally rewards trifles of this nature. Such has been the peculiar good 
fortune of Philips. John Pomfret (1667-1703) was a clergyman, and 
the only work by which he is now remembered is his poem of The 
Choice, giving a sketch of such a life of rural and literary retirement 
as has been the hoc erat in votis of so many. The images and ideas 
are of that nature that will always come home to the heart and fancy 
of the reader; and it is to this naturalness and accordance with uni- 
versal sympathy, rather than to anything very original either in its 
conception or its execution, that the poem owes the hold it has so long 
retained upon the attention. 



A. D. 1632-1704,] JOHN LOCKE. 249 

CHAPTER XIV. 

THE SECOND REVOLUTION. 

§ 1. John Locke : his life. § 2. His works. Letters on Toleration, Treatise on 
Civil Government. § 3. Essay on the Human Understanding. § 4. Essay on 
Education. On the Reasonableness of Christianity. On the Conduct of th& 
Understanding. $ 5. Isaac Barrow : his life and attainments. His iHermons. 
§6. Characteristics of the Anglican divines. John Pearson. $7. Aucn-' 

BISHOP TiLLOTSON. ^ 8. RoBERT SOUTU. EdWARD StILLINGFLEET. ThOMAS 

Sprat. William Sherlock. ^ 9. Progress of the physical sciences towards 
the end of the seventeenth century. Origin of the Royal Society. Dr. John 
WiLKiNS. § 10. Scientific writers. $ 11. Sir Isaac Newton. § 12. John 
Rat. Robert Boyle. Thomas Bxjrnet. § 13. Bishop Burnet. His 
History of the Reformation, and other works. 

§ 1. The period of the great and beneficent revolution of i688 was 
characterized hy the establishment of constitutional freedom in the 
State, and no less by a powerful outburst of practical progress in science 
and philosophy. It was this period that produced Newton in physical 
and Locke in intellectual science. The latter, in his character and 
career, offers the most perfect type of the good man, the patriotic 
citizen, and the philosophical investigator. John Locke (1632-1704) 
was born in 1632, educated at Westminster School and Christ-Church, 
Oxford, where he particularly devoted himself to the study of the phys- 
ical sciences, and especially of medicine. He undoubtedly intended to 
practise the latter profession, but was prevented from doing so by the 
weakness of his constitution, and a tendency to asthma, which in after 
life obliged him to retire from those public employments for which his 
integrity and talents so well fitted him. The direction of his studies at 
Oxford must have tended to inspire him with distaste and contempt for 
that adherence to the scholastic method which still prevailed in the 
University, and to excite in him a strong hostility to that stationary or 
rather retrograde spirit which sheltered itself under the venerable and 
much-abused name of Aristotle. There is no question that Locke's 
investigations during the thirteen years of his residence at Oxford had. 
been much turned to metaphysical subjects, and that he had seen the 
necessity of applying to this branch of knowledge that experimental or 
inductive method of which his great master Bacon was the apostle. In 
1664 he accompanied Sir Walter Vane, as his secretary, on a diplomatic 
mission to Brandenburg, and returning to Oxford in the following year, 
refused a flattering offer made him by the Duke of Ormond of consid- 
erable preferment in the Irish Church. His reasons for declining to 
take orders were equally honorable to Locke's good sense and to his 
high conscientious feeling. He declined the favor on the ground of his 
not experiencing that internal vocation vdthout which no man should 



250 THE SECOi^L REVOLUTION. [Chap. XIV. 

enter the priestly profession. In 1666 Locke became acquainted with 
Lord Ashley, afterwards Earl of Shaftesbury, and subsequently so cele- 
brated for his political talents and for his unprincipled and factious 
conduct when Chancellor and the head of the parliamentary opposi- 
tion. He is said to have rendered himself useful to this statesman by 
his medical skill, and unquestionably secured his intimacy and respect 
by the charms of his conversation and the virtues of his character. He 
attached himself intimately both to the domestic circle and to the 
political fortunes of this statesman, in whose house he resided several 
years, having undertaken the education first of the Chancellor's son 
and afterwards of his grandson, the latter of whom has left no un- 
worthj' name as an elegant, philosophical, and moral essajast. Locke's 
acquaintance with Shaftesbury brought him into daily and intimate 
contact with manj'^ of the most distinguished politicians and men of 
letters of the dvLj, among whom I may mention the all-accomplished 
Halifax, Sheffield, Duke of Buckinghamshire, and many others. Locke 
fully shared in the frequent and violent vicissitudes of Shaftesbury's 
agitated career. He was nominated, on his patron becoming Chan- 
cellor in 1672, Secretary of the Presentations, with which he combined 
another appointment; but these he lost in the following j-ear on the 
first fall of his patron. In 1675 he visited France for his health, and his 
journals and letters are not only valuable for the accurate but very 
unfavorable account they give of the then state of French societj', but 
are exceedingly amusing, animated, and gay. In 1679 Locke returned 
to England and rejoined Shaftesbury on his second accession to power 
during that stormy period when he was at the head of the furious 
agitation in favor of the Exclusion-Bill depriving the Duke of York, 
afterwards James II., and then Heir- Apparent, of the right of succeed- 
ing to the throne, on the ground of his notorious sj^mpathies with the 
Roman Catholic religion. The Chancellor again fell from power, was 
arraigned for High Treason, and though the bill of indictment was 
ignored by a patriotic jury, fled to Holland, where he died in 1683. 

During the evil days of tyranny and persecution which followed this 
event, Locke found a safb and tranquil retreat in Holland, a country 
which had so long been the asylum of all who were brought, by the 
profession of free opinions on politics or religion, imder the frown of 
power; and he enjoyed the friendship and society of Le Clerc and 
many other illustrious exiles for conscience' sake. During this time 
Locke, whose bold expression of constitutional opinions and whose 
ardent attachment to free investigation must have made him peculiarly 
obnoxious to the bigotry of Oxford, was deprived of his Studentship 
at Christ-Church, and denounced as a factious and rebellious agitator, 
and as a dangerous heresiarch in philosophy. The Revolution of 16S8 
was the triumph of those free principles of which Locke had been the 
preacher and the martyr ; and he returned to England in the same fleet 
which conveyed Qiieen Mary from Holland to the country whose crown 
she had been called to share. From this period his career was emi- 
nently useful, active, and even brilliant. He was appointed a member 



A. D. 1632-1704.] JOHN LOCKE. 251 

of the Council of Trade, and in that capacity took a prominent part in 
carrying ovit Montague's difficult and most critical operation of calling 
in and reissuing the silver coinage — an operation of the most vital 
importance at the moment, and of which Macaulaj has given in his 
history a narrative of the most dramatic interest. After a short service 
Locke retired from public employment, and resided during the remainder 
of his life with his friend Sir F. Masham at Oates in Essex. Lady 
Masham, an accomplished and intellectual woman, was the daughter 
of the philosopher Cudworth, tenderly loved and respected by her illus- 
trious guest, who enjoyed under her roof the ease and tranquillity he 
had so nobly earned. Locke died in 1704; and his personal character 
seems to have been one of those which approach perfection as nearly 
as can be expected from our fallible and imperfect nature. On his 
return to England in 16S8 Locke became acquainted with the illustrious 
Newton, who, like himself, was employed in the public service ; but 
somewhere about 1692 certain untoward events, among which one of 
the principal was the unfortunate accidental burning of his papers, 
seem to have shaken, if not overthrown for a season the balance of the 
great philosopher's mind ; and his querulous and suspicious irritation 
appears to have vented itself in a most unfounded misunderstanding 
with Locke, whom he accuses of " embroiling him with women and 
other things." It is pleasing to think that Locke's conduct in the affair 
was delicate and forbearing, and that his manly expostulations and wise 
advice re-established a good understanding that was never again inter- 
rupted. 

§ 2. The writings of this excellent thinker are numerous, varied in 
subject, all eminently useful, and breathing a constant love of human- 
ity. In 16S9 were published the Letters on Tolcratio7i, originally com- 
posed in Latin, but immediately translated into French and English. 
The author goes over somewhat the same ground as had been occupied 
by Jeremy Taylor in his Liberty of Prophesying^ and by Milton in the 
immortal Areopagilica ; but Locke deduces his arguments less from 
scriptural and patristic authority than was done by the "former, and 
depends more upon close reasoning and considerations of practical 
utility than Milton. Of course in Locke's work there is no trace of 
that gorgeous and imposing eloquence which glows and blazes through 
the Speech on Unlicensed Printing ; but perhaps Locke's calm and 
logical proofs have not less powerfully contributed to fix the universal 
conviction as to the justice of his cause. ' The Treatise on Civil 
Government was undertaken to overthrow those slavish theories of 
Divine Right which were then so predominant among the extreme 
monarchical parties, and nowhere carried to such extravagance as in the 
University of Oxford. Locke's more special object was the refutation 
of Sir John Filmer's once famous book entitled Patriarcha, in which 
these principles were maintained in all their crudeness, and supported 
with some learning and much ill-employed ingenuity. Filmer main- 
tains that the monarchical form of government claims from the subject 
Sin unlimited obedience, as being the representative of the patriarchal 



2' 



252 THE SECOND REVOLUTION. [Chap. XIV. 

authority in the primitive ages of mankind, while the patriarchal 
authority is in its turn the image of the power naturally possessed over 
his offspring by the parent, that again being the same in nature as the 
power of the Creator over his creature. The last-named of these being 
essentially infinite, it follows, according to Filmer, that all the otherp 
are so likewise. Locke combats and overthrows this monstrous theory, 
and seeks for the origin of government, and consequently the ground 
of authority on the one hand and obedience on the other, in the com- 
mon interest of society; showing that any form of polity which secures 
that interest may lawfully be acquiesced in, while none that does not 
secure it can claim any privilege of exemption from resistance. He in- 
vestigates the origin of society, and finds it based — as it can only be 
solidly based — upon the great and fertile principle of property and 
individual interest. 

§ 3. The greatest, most important, and most universally known of 
Locke's works is the Essay on the Human Understanding. In this 
book, which contains the reflections and researches of his whole life, 
and which was in the course of composition during eighteen years, 
Locke shows all his powers of close deduction and accurate observation. 
His object was to give a rational and clear account of the nature of the 
human mind, of the real character of our ideas, and of the mode in 
which they are presented to the consciousness. He attributes them all, 
whatever be their nature, to two, and only two, sources ; the first of 
these he calls Sensation, the second Reflection. He thus opposes the 
notion that there are any innate ideas, that is, ideas which have existed 
in the mind independently of impressions made upon the senses, or of 
the comparison, recollection, or combination of those impressions made 
by the judgment, the memory, or the imagination. Locke is eminently 
an inductive reasoner, and was the first to apply the method of experi- 
ment and observation to the obscure phenomena of the mental opera- 
tions ; and he is thus to be regarded as the most illustrious disciple of 
Bacon, whose mode of reasoning he adopted in a field of research till 
then considered as totally unamenable to the a posteriori logic. The 
most striking feature in this, as in all Locke's philosophical works, is the 
extreme clearness, plainness, and simplicity of his language, which is 
always such as to be intelligible to a plain understanding. He is the 
sworn foe of all technical and scientific terms, and his reasonings and 
illustrations are of the most familiar kind ; indeed he never scruples 
to sacrifice elegance to the great object of making himself understood. 
The following brief analysis of the work maybe found not unacceptable 
to the reader : — 

In Book I., consisting of four chapters, Locke inquires into the 
nature of the understanding, and demonstrates that there exist neither 
innate speculative nor innate practical principles. Book II., containing 
thirty-three chapters, is devoted to an examination into the nature of 
ideas, respectively treated as simple, as of solidity, of space, of dura- 
tion, of number, of infinity, and the like. He then considers the ideas 
of pleasure and of pain, of substance, of relations, as of cause and effect, 



U" 



A. D. 1632-1704.J JOHN LOCKE. 253 

and finall}' treats the important question of the association of ideas. 
Book in., divided into eleven chapters, is a most original and masterly 
investigation of the nature and properties of Language, of its relation 
to the ideas of which it is the vehicle, and of its abuses and imperfec- 
tions. This is, in the present day, when some parts of Locke's general 
theory are rd'garded as no longer tenable, the most valuable portion of 
the work. Book IV., including twenty-one chapters, discusses knowl- 
edge in general, its degrees, its extent, and its reality. The philosopher 
then proceeds to consider the natui-e of truth, of our knowledge of exist- 
ence, of our knowledge of the existence of a God, and of other beings. 
Then are investigated various important questions relating to judgment, 
probability, reason, faith, and the degrees of intellectual assent, and 
after some reflections on enthusiasm and on wrong assent, or error, 
Locke terminates with some valuable considerations on the Division 
of the Sciences. 

It was unavoidable that the portion of the work devoted to the inves- 
tigation of sensation should be more interesting and satisfactory than 
the portion treating of the obscure phenomena of reflection ; but how- 
ever we may dissent from particular details of Locke's theory, we can- 
not fail to render full justice to the inimitable clearness of his exposition, 
and to^he multitude of well-observed and well-arranged facts which 
form the groundwork of his arguments. 

§ 4. The Essay on Education has, like the book just examined, a 
practical tendency, and may be said to have mainly contributed to bring 
about that beneficial revolution which has taken place in the training of 
the young. Locke powerfully discountenances that exclusive attention 
to mere philology which prevailed in the education of the seventeenth 
century, and in no country more 'than in England. He advocates 
a more generous, liberal, and practical system, both in the choice 
of the subject-matter to be taught and in the mode of convening 
instruction. He is therefore in favor of making the pupil's own conscien- 
tiousness a substitute for that tyranny of force and authority which 
formerly disgraced our schools. Much of what is humane and philo- 
sophical in Rousseau's celebrated Emile is plainly borrowed from Locke, 
who is not responsible for the absurdities and extravagances ingrafted 
upon his plans by the Genevese theorist. Indeed both the educational 
and metaphysical works of Locke were unceremoniously ransacked by 
many French writers of the end of the seventeenth century, who were 
frequently not solicitous to point out the sources whence they drew 
their ideas. 

Besides the above works may be mentioned a treatise On the Reason- 
ableness of Christianity, in which the calm piety and benevolence of 
the sentiments form a triumphant refutation of those bigots who, like 
De Maistre, have accused Locke of irreligious and materialistic tenden- 
cies, and a small but admirable little book On the Conduct of the Under- 
sta7tding, which was not published until after the author's death. It 
contains a kind of manual of reflections upon all those natural defects 
or acquired evil habits of the mir.d, which unfit it for the taskof acquir- 
22 



254 THE SECOND REVOLUTION. [Chap. XIV. 

ing and retaining knowledge. It shows an acuteness and scope of 
observation not inferior to that exhibited in his great anterior work, 
together with the same calm but ardent spirit of humanity and benevo- 
lence which animates all the writings, as it did the whole life, of this 
great and excellent man. 

§5.1 have now to consider a series of excellent writers, who will 
always retain the place of classics in English prose, and who are equally 
worthy of admiration as Protestant theologians and as models of logical 
and persuasive eloquence. At the head of them stands Isaac Barrow 
(1630-1677), a man of almost universal acquirements, and whose ser- 
mons are still studied as the most powerful and majestic prose com- 
positions that the seventeenth century has produced. He was born in 
1630, educated at the Charter-house, whence he passed to Trinity Col- 
lege, Cambridge, of which he was one of the most illustrious alumni. 
He is said to have been, as a boy, remarkable for a violent and quarrel- 
some disposition, and to have been perpetually fighting with his school- 
fellows : of this temper nothing remained in after life save great energy 
and vigor of character, and a degree of personal courage of which he 
gave a striking proof in a sea-fight against an Algerine pirate, when 
returning from his travels in the East. At the University his studies 
seem to have embraced every branch of knowledge, not only Philology, 
of which he became so great a proficient as to have been first an unsuc- 
cessful and afterwards a successful candidate for the Greek professor- 
ship, but all the range of the mathematical sciences, together with 
Anatomy, Chemistry, and Botany. After some time he left Cambridge, 
and travelled through the greater part of Europe to the East, revisiting 
France and Italy on his way to Smyrna and Constantinople, and re- 
turning home by way of Germany and Holland in 1645. It was while 
sailing in the Mediterranean that he gave that proof of intrepidity to 
which I have alluded above. During his residence in the East he pur- 
sued his studies in Natural History, and obtained some acquaintance 
with the Oriental Languages, so useful in biblical research. On 
returning to Cambridge he was appointed Professor of Greek, to which 
he added the chair of Geometry in Gresham College, and afterwards 
the Lucasian professorship of Mathematics in the University. He was 
one of the ablest and profoundest mathematicians of his day, and culti- 
vated with distinguished success those same departments of science in 
which his illustrious pupil and successor, Newton, gained his undying 
glory — as Optics, Mechanics, and Astronomy. Indeed it has been the 
misfortune of Barrow that his mathematical fame, though brilliant and 
solid, has been eclipsed by the superior splendor of his great contem- 
porary's renown. Had he not lived at the sarnie time with Newton, and 
pursued nearly the same branches of investigation, the name of Bar- 
row would have stood among those of the foremost mathematicians of 
England. Newton was, indeed, a pupil of Barrow, who warmly appre- 
ciated and befriended him ; and it was to him that he resigned his 
Lucasian professorship. This transfer took place in 1669; before which 
period Barrow had taken orders, and devoted himself to that career cf 



A. D. 1630-1677.] ISAAC BARROW, 255 

theology and Christian eloquence in which he assuredlj- had no rival 
to fear. His sermons, many of which were preached in London, now 
became famous. He was named one of the king's chaplains, and in 
1672 was elected Master of Trinity College ; and having in his turn 
filled the high office of Vice-Chancellor of the University, he died of a 
fever at the early age of forty-six, in 1677. 

It is related that though Barrow's appearance in the pulpit was far 
from imposing at the first glance, his influence as an orator was irre- 
sistible ; and that notwithstanding the dignity and Demosthenic gran- 
deur of his eloquence, he at commencing suftered painfully from diffi- 
dence and timidity. His pulpit orations are not only filled and almost 
overladen with thought, so that even the most powerful intellect must 
use all its force and employ all its attention to follow his reasoning, 
but they were, as compositions, elaborated with the greatest care, and 
revised and rewritten with scrupulous anxiety before he was satisfied 
with his work. His sermons are numerous; and many of the most 
valuable of them form series, devoted to the exhaustive explanation 
of some particular department of religious knowledge or belief: thus 
there is an excellent series of discourses commenting upon the Lord's 
Prayer, which is anatomized, clause by clause; each article forming 
the text of a separate discourse. A similar set of sermons is devoted 
to the Creed, another to the Decalogue, another to the Sacraments, 
and so on. The predominant quality of Barrow's style is a weighty 
majesty of thought and diction ; every line that he produced bears a 
peculiar stamp of unconscious power — the vigor of a mind to which 
no subtlety was too arduous, no deduction too obscure. Whatever 
subject he approaches he seems to handle with a giant grasp, and to 
manage the most ponderous difficulties of theology with an heroic 
ease, like that of Homer's champions hurling stones that " nine degen- 
erate men " of modern times would fail to lift. Though full of truly Chris- 
tian and evangelical meekness, his writings have not that flush of 
beauty, that almost effeminate prodigality of images, that lingering 
and somewhat enervate melody that make the writings of Jeremy Tay- 
lor so poetical and so enchanting. Nor does he fall into Taylor's error 
of overloading his sermons with quotation. If Taylor be of the Corin- 
thian, Barrow is of the Doric order, not devoid of appropriate orna- 
ment, but chiefly distinguished for solidity and justness of proportion. 
If Taylor be the English Isocrates, Barrow is the Demosthenes of the 
Church. In some general features of style the reader will trace a 
resemblance between Barrow and Bossuet. It is true that the grand 
tone of denunciation is seldom heard from the lips of the Protestant 
divine; but both exhibit a similar loftiness of conception, a similar 
might and grasp of intellect, and a similar severity and purity of taste. 
There is perhaps no English prose writer, the study of whose work?, 
would be more invigorating to the mind, and more adapted to the for- 
mation of a pure taste, than Barrow; nor can there be a better proof 
that the most capable critics have agreed in this opinion, than the fact 
that Chatham recommended Barrow, as the finest model of eloquence, 



256 THE SECOND REVOLUTION. [Chap. XlV. 

to his son, and the accomplished Landor has not hesitated to place him 
above all the greatest of the ancient thinkers and philosophers. " Plata 
and Xenophon," he makes one of his personages assert, " as men of 
thought and genius, might walk without brushing their skirts between 
these two covers," striking his hand on a volume of Barrow. 

§ 6. It will be necessary to pass rapidly over the names of a consid- 
erable number of able divines who adorn the Church and literature of 
their country during the period of which I am now treating. Their 
works are distinguished by merits varying both in kind and in degree ; 
but they are all characterized in common by a spirit which I may call 
Protestant, or rather Anglican ; a mixture of Christian fervor and 
extensive learning with a practical acquaintance with the requirements 
and dangers of real life — a spirit equally remote from the fanatical 
gloom and mysticism of the Calvinistic extreme, and the dogmatic 
pedantry of the Romish writers. The first I shall mention is John 
Pearson (1613-1686), originally Professor of Theology and Master of 
Trinity College, Cambridge, and afterwards Bishop of Chester. His 
most celebrated work is his Exposition of the Creed, which is still 
regarded as one of the most complete and searching treatises investi- 
gating the great fundamental principles of our faith. In our examina- 
tion of the English divines we shall see that they are pretty equally 
shared between our two great Universities. The theological and polit- 
ical tendencies which predominated at one or another period in these 
two learned bodies are faithfully reflected in the writings of their chil- 
dren ; for in that agitated epoch political and theological tendencies 
were intimately connected together, most of the great and exciting 
questions being tinged with a strong leaven of either spirit; but our 
Universities have no reason to be ashamed either of the learning or 
the conduct of their alumni. 

§ 7. Next after Barrow, John Tillotson (1630-1694) perhaps en- 
joys the highest and most durable popularity among the pulpit orators 
of this time : indeed the popularity of his sermons has extended to the 
present day, and they are frequently read by pious Churchmen even 
now. But Tillotson, though a sound and classical English prose- 
writer, was a man of a calibre far inferior to Barrow. He studied at 
Cambridge, where he at first rendered himself conspicuous for his 
decided Puritan sympathies. He, however, afterwards made no diffi- 
culty in conforming to the rules and discipline of the Anglican Church, 
and ultimately rose to the dignity of Archbishop of Canterbury. He 
was a person of easy, good-natured, and amiable character; and his 
change of party seems to have left no other eftect upon him than that 
of increasing his candor and indulgence for all shades of sincere opin- 
ion. In his conduct as a pastor and as a prelate he exhibited much 
zeal in correcting the abuses which had crept into the Church, and 
gave a notable example of liberal charity and episcopal virtue. He 
was renowned as a preacher; and his sermons, though falling far short 
of Barrow's in grasp of mind and vigor of expression, are precisely' of 
such a nature as is most likely to command popularity. They show an 



A.D. 1633-1716.] SOUTH. STILLINGFLEET. SPRAT. 257 

easy flow of style, sometimes, it is true, carrying too far the affectation 
of familiarity, in consequence of which the images and illustrations 
are occasionally trivial ; but there is a good deal of artifice, and even 
sophistry, in the reasoning, cunningly concealed under an air of candor 
which ne-v^r deserts Tillotson. His sentences, too, are often singularly 
unmusical, and are evidently made as colloquial in tone as possible. 
Tillotson often preached to the higher classes ; and in addressing such 
congregations he strove to conquer their fashionable indifference by 
adopting, as far as possible, the tone and air of a man of the world. 

§ 8. Robert South (1633-1716) enjoyed in his day the reputation 
of being the " wittiest Churchman " of the time. His character was 
far less deserving of admiration than that of Tillotson, as he exhibited 
extreme violence in attacking opinions from which he had apostatized. 
Like the Archbishop, he began his career as a partisan of Puritan doc- 
trines, and produced an extravagant poetical eulogy of Cromwell ; but 
at the University he imbibed the extreme Tory or monarchical opin- 
ions which had become prevalent at Oxford, where he filled the post 
of Public Orator, and indeed became one of the most characteristic 
specimens of that bigoted and vmreasonable class of Churchmen who 
were called Jiigkfliers in the party jargon of the day, and who went all 
lengths in maintaining the outi-ageous doctrines of passive obedience 
and non-resistance. He often preached before Charles II., and was 
much admired by the courtly audiences of those days for the animation, 
and even gayety, of his manner, and the pleasant stories and repartees 
which he sometimes introduced into his sermons. Many witty and 
>ocose anecdotes are related of him ; but in these cases it is necessary 
to accept such stories with some reserve, as there exists in the world 
a vast floating capital of such pleasantries, which are successively fa- 
thered upon any man who possesses a reputation for humor. The gross 
adulation with which he was not ashamed to address Charles II., and 
in which he lauded the virtues of Charles I., proves that South, with 
all his talents, has no claim to the character of a high-spirited man, 
particularly when we contrast the ^furious personal abuse he lavished 
on Cromwell with the extravagant praise that he had previously given 
him. His denunciations of the principles and convictions of his former 
party, too, are so unmeasured and illiberal as to destroy our belief in 
their sincerity, and we feel involuntarily constrained to attribute them 
to the got-up fervor of an interested convert. 

Edward Stillingfleet (1635-1699), Bishop of Worcester, is an- 
other name which must not be passed over without notice. He is prin- 
cipally remembered for his controversy with Locke, some of whose 
propositions he attacked, on the ground of their being, as he main- 
tained, hostile to the doctrine of the immateriality, and consequently 
of the immortality, of the soul. Locke triumphantly replied to these 
objections ; and the philosopher was so generally considered as having 
been victorious in this contest of argument over the divine, that the 
mortification of defeat is said to have shortened Stillingfleet's life. 

Thomas Sprat (1636-1713), Bishop of Rochester, was a man re- 
22* # 



258 THE SECOND REVOLUTION. . [Chap. XIV. 

nowned in his time for the brilliancy and variety of his talents. He 
was an ardent cultivator of physical science, which had just then made 
its first sudden bound forwards in that splendid career of observation 
and discovery which has ever since gone on progressing with such por- 
tentous rapidity. He was one of the members of the Ro^al Society, 
then recently founded, and to which the glory of English science owes 
so much. He was distinguished as a poet, though his writings in this 
department are now little read ; and as a biographer of poets, as the 
author of an excellent and interesting Life of Coivley. Besides these 
he was a theologian and preacher of no mean ability, and a very active 
contributor to the polemical and political literature of his day. Sprat 
was a member of the University of Oxford; and that his high reputa- 
tion for brilliancy of eloquence and ardor of imagination was not to be 
entirely attributed to the partiality of contemporary admiration, maj-^ 
be proved by the honorable terms in which his talents are spoken of by 
two such critics as Johnson and Macaulay. 

I shall conclude the present category of authors with the name of 
William Sherlock (1678-1761), Dean of St. Paul's, whose exposi- 
tions of scriptural doctrine have always been regarded with approval, 
and who in his own time was conspicuous as a polemic writer against 
the Dissenters. His best-known work is a Practical Discourse concern- 
i7ig Death. 

§ 9. Though the aim of these pages is to give an account of Litera- 
ture in its strict and proper sense, the subject of Science comes in 
contact with that object at so many points, that I should but ill perform 
my task without offering some notice of the writers who, though thej' 
devoted»their chief attention to physical researches, yet occupy a place 
among English authors. It is true that at the period of which we are 
treating, important scientific works were generally given to the world 
in Latin, that language being then the universal medium, the intellec- 
tual money, so to say, current among the learned in all parts of Europe ; 
but many of the great men who carried to so unequalled a height the 
glory of the human intellect and the honor of their native country, 
composed a portion of their works in their vernacular tongue, or at 
least published English versions of their learned labors, and thus de- 
serve some mention in their capacity of English writers. There are 
few episodes in the history of human knowledge more surprising than 
the sudden and dazzling progress made in the physical sciences towards 
the end of the seventeenth century. This progress is visible in Ger- 
many, in Holland, in France, and in England; in none of these nations, 
indeed, more so than in our own. It was just and natural that the 
vivifying effect produced by the writings and by the method of Bacon 
should be peculiarly powerful in that country which gave birth to the 
great reformer of philosophy; and there is no doubt that the develop- 
ment of free institutions and open discussion exercised a powerful 
influence in facilitating research, in promoting a spirit of inquiry, and 
in rendering possible the open expression of opinion. 

A very prominent part in the cultivation and dissemination of experi- 



A. D. 1614-1672.] WILKINS. GILBERT. HARVEY. 259 

mental research, in all branches of physics and natural history, was 
played by the Royal Society, that illustrious body which, originating 
in the meetings of a few learned and ingenious men at each other's 
houses, was incorporated by Charles II., in 1662, into the Society to 
the labors of which human knowledge owes so much. 

Among the founders of this corporation one of the most active was 
Dr. John Wilkins (1614-1672), Bishop of Chester, a most energetic 
and ingenious man, whose vivacious inventiveness sometimes bordered 
upon extravagance, but who rendered great services, both in his writings 
and his conversation, to the cause of science. He was essentially a 
projector, and at a period when the first wonderful results of the em- 
ployment of the experimental method had made even the calmest 
minds in some degree lose their balance, and become unable to distin- 
guish between what was practicable and what was visionary, we can 
hardly feel surprised that the ardor of his genius should have carried 
him beyond the bounds of good sense, so far as to seriously propose, 
among other Utopian schemes, a plan by which it would be possible to 
fly to the moon. Wilkins was a theological writer and a preacher 
of high reputation ; but his name is now chiefly associated with his 
projects and inventions, and in particular with the prominent part he 
took, together with Boyle and others, in the organization of the Royal 
Society.* He married the sister of Oliver Cromwell, and his step- 
daughter was married to Tillotson. "* 

§ 10. The progress of physical science had been very rapid before 
this time. The labors of William Gilbert (1540-1603), whose re- 
searches in magnetism laid the foundation for all future investigations, 
in that science, and the immortal discovery of William Harvey (1578- 
1658), the first demonstrator of the circulation of the blood, belong to 
an earlier period; but the concentration of the labors of many separate 
investigators upon one special branch of research was a result mainly 
to be attributed to the institution of our great scientific corporation. 
As a proof of this I may mention the contemporary, or nearly contem- 
porary labors of Newton in optics, astronomy, and celestial mechanics, 
and those of Flamsteed, Halley, and others, in the combined depart- 
ments of careful observation and the application of new and convenient 
mathematical formulas to the practical solution of problems in astron- 
omy and navigation ; while Boyle, embracing a wide extent and vast 
variety of research, particularly devoted himself to the investigation of 
chemical and pneumatic science; and Ray, Derham, Willoughby, and 
Sydenham brought valuable contributions to physiology, natural his- 
tory, and medicine. Most of these great men, independently of their 
purely scientific writings, which, as in the case of the immortal Prin- 
Upia of the most illustrious among them, were in Latin, contributed in 

* The chief works of Wilkins are: — 1. Disov^ry of a New World: or a 
discourse tending to prove that it is probabk that there may be another habitcihle 
World in the Moon; xoith a discourse concerning the possibility of a passage 
thither. Published in 1638. 2. An Essay towards a Real Character and a 
Philosophical Language, printed bi' order of the Royal Society in 1668. 



260 THE SECOND REVOLUTION. [Chap. XIV, 

a greater or less proportion to the vernacular literature of their country. 
Thus Newton wrote, in English, upon the Prophecies, and other subjects 
connected with biblical knowledge ; and Bojle enjoyed a high reputa* 
tion for his moral and religious writings. It is remarkable and consol- 
ing to see with what unanimous consent these illustrious philosophers, 
all men of extraordinary acumen and caution, and all accustomed, from 
the nature of their pursuits, to take nothing for granted, to weigh and 
balance evidence with the severest exactness, agreed in the intensity of 
their religious convictions. Those habits of physical investigation, 
which are so often ignorantly accused of being unfavorable to the habit 
of belief, seem to have led the most powerful and inquiring minds only 
the more irresistibly to a firm conviction of the truths of revealed 
religion. 

§ 11. Sir Isaac Newton (1642-1727) was born in 1642, of a respec- 
table but not opulent family, at Woolsthorpe in Lincolnshire. From 
his earliest boyhood he showed the greatest taste and aptitude for 
mechanical invention, and entering the University of Cambridge, in 
1660, he made such rapid progress in mathematical studies that in nine 
years Barrow resigned in his favor the Lucasian professorship. The 
greater part of Newton's life was passed within the quiet walls of Trin- 
ity, of which College he is the most glorious ornament; and it was 
here that he elaborated those admirable discoveries and demonstrations 
in Mechanics, Astronomy, and Optics which have placed his name in 
the very foremost rank of the benefactors of mankind. He sat in more 
than one parliament as member for his university; but he appears to 
have been of too reserved and retiring a character to take an active 
part in political discussion : he was appointed Master of the Mint in 
1695, and presided over that establishment at the critical period of 
Montagu's bold recall and reissue of the specie. It is delightful to see 
with what simplicity and readiness this illustrious philosopher aban- 
doned all those sublime researches in which he stands almost alone 
among mankind, and devoted all his energy and attention to the public 
duties that had been committed to his charge. He even writes with a 
kind of pettish querulousness to upbraid friends who had consulted him 
about " mathematical things," as he calls them, when he was entirely 
occupied with the public service. In 1703 he was made president of 
the Royal Society, and knighted two years afterwards by Qiieen Anne. 
He died in 1727. His character, the only defects of which appear to 
have been a somewhat cold and suspicious temper, was the type of 
those virtues which ought to distinguish the scholar, the philosopher, 
and the patriot. His modesty was as great as his genius, and he inva- 
riably ascribed the attainment of his discoveries rather to patient atten- 
tion than to any unusual capacity of intellect. His English writings, 
which are chiefly discourses upon the prophecies and chronology of the 
Scriptures, are composed in a manly, plain, and unaffected style, and 
breathe an intense spirit of piety, though his opinions seem to have in 
some measure inclined towards the Unitarian type of theology. His 
glory, however, will always mainly rest upon his purely scientific works, 



A. D. 1628-1715-] ^4^- BURNET. 261 

the chief of which are so well known that it is almost superfluous to 
enumerate them — the Philosophice Naturalis Principia Mathematica 
and the invaluable treatise on Optics, of which latter science he may 
be said to have first laid the foundation. 

§ 12. John Ray (1628- 1705), together with Derham and Willoughbj, 
combined the descriptive department of Natural History with moral 
and religious eloquence of a high order ; they seem never to be weary 
of proclaiming the wisdom and goodness of that Providence whose 
works they had so attentively studied. Ray was the first who elevated 
Natural History to the rank of a science. Robert Boyle (1627-1691) 
was an able writer as well as a distinguished philosopher. "No Eng- 
lishman of the seventeenth century, after Lord Bacon," observes Mr. 
Hallam, "raised to himself so high a reputation in experimental phi- 
losophy as Robert Bojde : it has even been remarked that he was born 
in the year of Bacon's death, as the person destined by nature to suc- 
ceed him — a eulogy which would be extravagant if it implied any 
parallel between the genius of the two, but hardly so if we look on 
Boyle as the most faithful, the most patient, the most successful disciple 
who carried forward the experimental philosophy of Bacon. His works 
occupy six large volumes in quarto. They may be divided into theo- 
logical or metaphysical anc^hysical or experimental. The metaphys- 
ical treatises — t? use that word in a large sense — of Boyle, or rather 
those concerning Natural Theology, are very perspicuous, very free 
from system, and such as bespeak an independent lover of truth. His 
Disquisition on Final Causes was a well-timed vindication of that 
palmary argument against the paradox of the Cartesians, who had 
denied the validity of an inference from the manifest adaptation of 
means to ends in the universe to an intelligent Providence. Boyle 
takes a more philosophic view of the principle of final causes than 
had been found in many theologians, who weakened the argument 
itself by the presumptuous hypothesis that man was the sole object of 
Providence in the creation. His greater knowledge of physiology led 
him to perceive that there are both animal and what he calls cosmical 
ends in which man has no concern." 

One of the most extraordinary writers of this period — at least in a 
purely literary sense — was Thomas Burnet (1635-1715), Master of 
the Charter-house, author of the eloquent and poetic declamation Tal- 
luris Theoria Sacra, giving a hypothetical account of the causes which 
produced the various irregularities and undulations which we see in 
the earth's surface. These he attributes to the action of fire and water, 
and in language of indescribable picturesqueness he first describes the 
convulsions and cataclysms which have given to our earth its present 
form, and then goes on to picture the final destruction that is awaiting 
our globe in the mysterious abysses of the future. The geological and 
physical theories of Burnet are fantastic in the extreme ; but the pic- 
tures which he has drawn of the devastation caused by the great 
unbridled powers of Nature are grand and magnificent, and give Bur- 
net a claim to be placed among the most eloquent and poetical of prose- 



262 THE SECOND REVOLUTION. [Chap. KIV. 

writers. In richness of fancy and melody of language he is no unwor- 
thy rival of Jeremy Taylor, with whose noble description of the fina 
destruction of the earth Burnet's sublime painting will bear a com- 
parison. 

§ 13. This writer must not be confounded with Gilbert Burnet 
(1643-1715), born in Edinburgh, in 1643, and who was one of the most 
active politicians and divines during the period embracing the reigns 
of Charles II., James II., and the accession of William of Orange. 
By birth and personal predilections he occupies a middle space between 
the extreme Episcopalian and Presbyterian parties, and though a man 
of ardent and busy character, he was possessed of rare tolerance and 
candor. He was much celebrated for his talents as an extempore 
preacher, and was the author of a very large number of theological 
and political writings. Among these his History of the Reformation 
is still considered as one of the most valuable accounts of that impor- 
tant revolution. The first volume of this was published in 1679, ^"<^ 
the work was afterwards completed by the author. He also gave to 
the world an account of the Life a?td Death of the witty and infamous 
Rochester, whose last moments he attended as a religious adviser, and 
whom his pious arguments recalled to a sense of repentance. He at 
one time enjoyed the favor of Charles II., -but soon forfeited it by the 
boldness of his remonstrances against the profligacy of the king and 
by his defence of Lord William Russell, whose execution was one of 
the great political crimes of that reign. Burnet also published an 
Expositio7i of the XXXIX Articles. On falling into disgrace at court 
he travelled on the Continent, and afterwards attached himself closely 
to the service of William of Orange at the Hague, where he became 
the religious adviser of the Princess Mary, afterwards Qi_ieen. At the 
Revolution Burnet accompanied the deliverer on his expedition to Eng- 
land, took a very active part in controversy and political negotiation, 
and was raised to the Bishopric of Salisbury, in which function he gave 
a noble example of the zeal, tolerance, and humanity which ought to 
be the chief virtues of a Christian pastor. He died in 1715, leaving 
the MS. of his most important work, the History of My Own Times, 
which he directed to be published after the lapse of six years. This 
work, consisting of Memoirs of the important transactions of which 
Burnet had been contemporary, is of a similar nature and not inferior 
value to Clarendon's, which represents the events of English history 
from a nearly opposite point of view. Burnet is minute, familiar, and 
gossiping, but lively and trustworthy in the main as to facts; and no 
one who desires to make acquaintance with a very critical and agitated 
period of our annals can dispense with the mateiials he has accumu- 
lated. It is from him that we learn the true greatness and energy of 
William's character, and the milder virtues of his queen ; and the very 
ardor of Burnet's predilections gives a vivacity and a value to his pic- 
tures of men and things. 



A. D. 1614-1714.] NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 



263 



NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 



(A.) — OTHER THEOLOGICAL WRITERS. 

Heney Moke (1614-1687), known by the name 
of the Platonist, spent his whole life at Cambridge 
engaged in metaphysical and philosophical studies. 
He is a writer of genius and power, but he adopted 
the mystical views not only of the later Platonists, 
but even of the cabalistic writers. His most im- 
portant works are The Mu»tery of Godliness, The 
ilystei-y of Iniquity, and A Discourse on the Immor- 
tality of the Soul. He also wrote a volume of Philo- 
sophical Foems. 

Kali'II Cudwoeth (1617-1688), a contemporary 
of More at Cambridge, and Regius Professor of 
Divinity at that University, is a writer of still greater 
power than INIore. In 1678 Cudworth published 
the first part of his great work, entitled The True 
Intellectual Syftem of the Universe. " Cudworth," 
observes Mr. Hallam, " was one of those whom 
Hobbes had roused by the atheistic and immoral 
theories of the Leviathan ; nor did any antagonist 
perhaps of that philosopher bring a more vigorous 
understanding to the combat. This understanding 
was not so much obstructed in its own exercise by 
a vast erudition, as it is sometimes concealed bj' it 
from the reader. Cudworth hag passed mor6 for a 
recorder of ancient philosophy, than for one who 
might stand in a respectable class among philoso- 
phers; and his work, though long, being unfinished, 
as well as full of digression, its object has not been 
fully apprehended. This object was to establish the 
liberty of human actions against the fatalists. Of 
these he lays it down that there are three kinds : the 
first atheistic; the second admitting a Deity, but 
one acting necessarily and without moral perfec- 
tions; the third granting the moral attributes of 
God, but asserting all human actions to be governed 
by necessary laws which he has ordained. The 
first book of the Intellectual System, which alone is 
extant, relates wholly to the proof of the existence 
of a Deity against the atheistic fatalists, his moral 
nature being rarely or never touched; so that the 
greater and more interesting part of the work, for 
the sake of which the author projected it, is wholly 
wanting, unless we take for fragments of it some 
writings of the autlior preserved in the British 

Museum Cudworth is too credulous and 

uncritical about ancient writings, defending all as 
genuine, even where his own age had been sceptical. 
His terminology is stiflF and pedantic, as is the case 
with all our older metaphysicians, abounding in 
words which the English language has not recog- 
nized. He is full of the ancients, but rarely quotes 
the schoolmen. Hobbes is the adversarj' with whom 
he most grapples ; the materialism, the resolving all 
ideas into sensation, the low morality of that writer, 
were obnoxious to the animadversion of so strenu- 
ous an advocate of a more elevated philosophy. In 
Bome respects Cudworth has, as I conceive, much 
the advantage; iu others, he will gca«rally be 



thought by our metaphysicians to want precision 
and logical reasoning; and upon the whole we must 
rank him, in philosophical acumen, far below 
Hobbes, Malebranche, and Locke, but also far 
above any mere Aristotelians or retailers of Scotus 
and Aquinas." He was, however, most unfairly 
accused of favoring the atheists, because ne fairly 
stated their arguments. He left an only daughter, 
who married Sir Francis Masham, and who is 
known as the friend of Locke (see p. 251). 

RiCHAED CUMBEKLAND (1632-1718), made 
Bishop of Peterborough by William III., Is best 
known by his Latin work, De Lefiihus Natures 
Disquisitio Philosophica, puhlishedin 1672, in oppo- 
sition to the philosophical principles of Hobbes. 
Cumberland was also the author of an Essay on 
Jewish Weights and Measures. 

Robert Leiquton (1613-1684), Archbishop of 
Glasgow, whose commentary on the First Epistle of 
St. Peter may be regarded as a classic, both for 
profoundness of thought and felicity of expression. 
Attention has been drawn to it in modern times by 
Coleridge in his " Aids to Reflection." 

THEOPIIILU8 Gale (1628-1678), Fellow of Mag- 
dalen College, Oxford, but ejected at the Restora- 
tion, is known by a learned work, called The Court 
of the Gentiles, published between 1669 and 1677, in 
which he attempts to prove that all heathen philoso- 
phy was borrowed from the Scriptures, or at least 
from the Jews. 

Geoege Bull (16.34-1710), Bishop of St. David's, 
a great opponent of the Augustinian theology, and 
still regarded as one of the pillars of the Anglican 
Church. In his Hannonia Apostolica, published in 
1669, he maintains that we are to interpret St. Paul 
by St. James, and not St. James by St. Paul, because 
St. James was the latest authority. Another of Bull's 
celebrated works was the Defensio Fidei A'icevss 
published in 1685, for which he received the thanks 
of an assembly of the French clergy, through the 
influence of Bossuet. 

John Owen (1616-1683), Vice-Chancellor of the 
University of Oxford under Cromwell, and one of 
the most eminent of the Independent divines, pub- 
lished alargenumberoftheologicalworks, of which 
An Exposition on the Epistle to the Hebrews is the 
best known. Owen's style is dull, heavy, and con- 
fused. 

John Howe (1630-1705), chaplain to Cromwell, 
and also an eminent Independent divine, wrote 
various theological works, the style of which is far 
superior to Owen's. 

John Flavel (1627-1691), a Nonconformist 
divine at Dartmouth, whose theological writings 
are chiefly devotional, characterized by much fer- 
vor, and of the Calvinistic theology. They are still 
popular with persons of that school. 

Matthew Heney (1662-1714), son of Philip 
Henry, and like his father an eminent Nonconform- 
ist divine. He is best know I by his Commentary 



264 



NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. [Chap. XIV. 



on the Bible, written in a perspicuous and pointed 
style. 

EnMTJND Calamy (1600-1666), originally a cler- 
gynmn of tlie Church of England, but afterwards a 
dissenting minister in London. He took part in the 
Smectymnuf, an attack on Episcopacy. His ser- 
mons are practical, though now and then we find 
political feelings overmastering the cabner style of 
the divine. 

THOMAS Ellwood ( 1639-1713) , a pupil of Milton, 
and when the great poet became blind, he read to 
him. He turned Quaker, and labored diligently to 
extend the principles of his Society. He wrote an 
autobiography and several polemical tracts, such as 
that against Tithes, 1682, and on the Histories of the 
Old and New Testament, 1705-9. 

Dk. William Lowth (1661-1732), a celebrated 
classic and theologian, prebend of Winchester, and 
rector of Buriton. His writings on the Inspiration 
of the Old and New Testaments, and Commentaries, 
•were valuable additions to the theology of the age. 
He was the father of the well-known Bishop Lowth. 

Scottish DrvnrES. 

S AMTIEl, Rttth eefoed ( 1600-1661) . 

Thomas Halybukton (1674-1712). 

Thomas Boston (1676-1732). 

In this age occurred "the great Marrow con- 
troversy," occasioned by a book of Edward Fisher, 
a Calvinistic minister in Wales, entitled The Mar- 
row of Modern Divinity, 1645. This work was 
■warmly received by a section of the church, while 
another portion rejected it. It gave rise to much 
disturbance and contest. 

The tliree writers mentioned above, who took an 
active part in this controversy, were severe and 
sombre in their divinity ; but there was a massive- 
ness of thought and a richness of expression which 
Btill make this age one of the most remarkable and 
valuable in the history of Christian theology. 

(B.) OTHER PROSE WRITERS. 

BtJLSTEODE Whttelocke (1605-1676), an able 

Lawyer, was sent by Cromwell as ambassador to 



Sweden, and held other high offices under the Pro- 
tector. He wrote Memorials of English Affairs, 
from the beginning of the reign of Charles I. to the 
Restoration, which work was first published in 1682. 

Henky Nevile (1020-1694), the friend of Har- 
rington, the author of the Oceana, and a member 
of the republican party, published in 1681 an able 
work, entitled Plato Redivivus, or a Dialogue con- 
cerning Government. The dialogue is between a 
Venetian nobleman, an English doctor (supposed 
to be Harvey), and an English gentleman. Though 
formerly belonging to the republican party, Nevile 
in this work advocates a monarchical form of gov- 
ernment. 

SiE William Dugpale (1605-1686), a learned 
antiquary, who published the Baronage of Eng- 
land, The Antiquities of Warwickshire Illustrated, 
A History of St. Pauls Cathedral, &c. 

EliaS Ashmole (1617-1692), also a learned anti- 
quary, who married the daughter of Sir William 
Dugdale, published in 1672 The Institutions, Laws, 
and Ceremonies of the Most Noble Order of the 
Garter. He wrote numerous other works, and was 
the founder of the Musemn at Oxford which still 
bears his name. 

Anthony Wood (1632-1695), published in 1691 
his Athense Oxonienses, an account of the eminent 
men educated at Oxford. 

John Aubrey (1626-1697) collected materials for 
many works, but published only one, in 1696, enti- 
tled Miscellanies, containing an account of popular 
superstitions, from which it appears that Aubrey 
was very credulous. 

SiK Matthew Hale (1609-1676), the celebrated 
Chief-Justice of the King's Bench in the reign of 
Charles n., wrote several works, many of them of a 
moral and religious character, of which his Con- 
templations, Moral and Divine, are the best known. 

Sib George Mackenzie (1636-1691), Lord- 
Advocate in the reigns of Charles II. and James II., 
was well acquainted with polite literature, but was 
held in execration by the Covenanters for his en- 
forcement of the cruel laws against them. His 
prose is better than his verse, and his Moral Essaya 
may still be read with pleasure. 



A. D. 16SS-1744.] ALEXANDER POPE. 2G5 



CHAPTER XV. 

POPE, SWIFT, AND THE AUGUSTAN POETS. 

§ 1 . Alexander Pope : his early life. Publication of his Pastorals^ Essay on 
Criticism, Rape of the Lock, Windsor Forest. Versions from Cliauccr. 
^ 2. Translation of the Iliad and Odyssey. ^ 3. Publication of the Elegy 07i 
on Unfortunate Lady, the Epistle from Sappho to Phaon, the Epistle of Eloisa 
to Abelard. His life at Twickenham. His edition of Shakspeare. Collection 
of Miscellanies. ^ 4. Publication of the Diinciad, of his Epistles, Essay on 
Man, and Imitations of Horace. § 5. His death, character, and other works. 
S 6. Criticism of the Rajje of the Lock. ^ 1. Jonathan Swift : his early 
life. His connection with Sir William Temple. § 8. Settles in Ireland. His 
Tale of a Tub. ^ 9. Returns to England and joins the Tories. Made Dean 
of St. Patrick's, Dublin. § 10. Takes up his residence in Ireland. Drapier's 
Lettirs. Travels of GulUver. His Death. § 11. His relation to Stella and 
Vanessa. § 12. Criticism of the Travels of Gulliver. § 13. Of the Tale of a 
Tub, and other works. Comparison between Swift, Rabelais, and Voltaire. 
§ 14. Dr. John Arbuthnot. His History of John Bull. § 15. Matthew 
Prior. § 16. John Gay. The Beggar's Opera. § 17. Garth, Parneli^j 
and TiCKELL. S 18. Edward Young. The Night Thoughts. § 19. Allan 
Ramsay. 

§ 1. Sense, vigor, harmony, and a kind of careless yet majestic regu- 
larity were the characteristics of that powerful school of poetry which 
was introduced into England at the Restoration, and of which Dryden is 
the most eminent type. These qualities were, in the so-called Augustan 
reign of Queen Anne, succeeded by a still higher polish, and an elegance 
sometimes degenerating into effeminacy. The slender and somewhat 
enervate grace of the Corinthian order succeeds the more masculine 
beauties of the Ionic. Far above all the poets of this epoch shines the 
brilliant name of Alexander Pope (16S8-1744). He was born in 
London of a respectable Catholic family of good descent, in 1688. His 
father had been engaged in trade as a linen-draper, and retired to a 
pleasant country house at Benfield, near Windsor, so that the childish 
imagination of the future poet imbibed impressions of rural beauty 
from the lovely scenery of the Forest. The boy was of almost dwarfish 
stature, and so deformed that his after life was '* one long disease," 
which not only precluded the possibility of his embracing any active 
profession, but could be preserved only by constant care and nursing. 
Like many other deformed and diminutive persons, he possessed a sin- 
gularly intellectual and expressive countenance, and his eyes were 
remarkable for their tenderness and fire. He exhibited an extraordinary 
precocity of intellect, and the literary ambition by which he was devoured 
even from his early boyhood at once pointed out*the poetical career to 
which he was destined. He has said of himself, " I lisped in numbers, 
2X 



266 POPE, SWIFT, AND AUGUSTAN POETS. [Chap. XV. 

for the numbers came," and the earliest attempts at poetry were made 
by him when he had hardly emerged from the nursery. His father had 
acquired a competent fortune, which enabled the boy poet to indulge 
that taste for study and poetical reading which continued to be the 
passion of his life. At the age of twelve he was so struck with reverence 
for the glory of Dryden, that he is said to have persuaded a friend to 
accompany him to Will's Coffee-house, which the glorious veteran was 
in the habit of frequenting, and to obtain a glance of the illustrious 
patriarch, whose death took place in that year. At sixteen he com- 
menced his literary career by composing a collection of Pastorals and 
by translating portions of Statius, which were published in 1709. From" 
this period his activity was unremitting, and an uninterrupted succes- 
sion of works, equally varied in their subjects and exquisite in their 
finish, placed him at the head of the poets of his age. His Essay on 
Criticism, published in 171 1, and highly praised by Addison, was 
perhaps the first poem that fixed his reputation, and gave him a fore- 
taste of that immense popularity which he enjoyed during his whole 
life. The precepts of this work are the same as those inculcated by 
Horace, and repeated by Boileau, and all the poets and critics of the 
classical school, but they are expressed by Pope with such a union of 
force and delicacy, such ripeness of judgment and such grace of expres- 
sion and melody of verse, that the poem appears less like the effort of 
a young writer than the result of consummate experience and practice 
in composition. It is to this period of Pope's career that we must 
ascribe the conception and first sketch of the most original and charm- 
ing production not only of Pope-, but of the century in which he lived ; 
a perfect gem, or masterpiece, equally felicitious in its plan and execu- 
tion ; one of those happy thoughts that are to be attributed half to 
genius and half to rare and favorable accident. This was the mock- 
heroic poem The Ru'/>e of the Lock, justly described by Addison as 
'■'■ merum sal, a delicious little thing," to which I shall presently recur 
and analyze in detail. This poem is the victorious rival of the Lutrin 
and of Vert-vert, and is indeed incomparably superior to every heroic 
comic composition that the world has hitherto seen. In 1713 appeared 
his pastoral eclogues entitled Windsor Forest, in which beauty of versifi- 
cation and neatness of diction do all they can to compensate for the 
r.bsence of that deep feeling for nature which the poetry of the eigh- 
teenth century did not possess. The plan of this woik is principally 
borrowed from Denham's Cooper's Hill, but Pope has hardly any pas- 
sage to be compared with those few but unequalled lii es which have 
preserved the vitality of the latter work. The freque it descriptions 
introduced by Pope, though beautiful in their way, have the same arti- 
ficial air which forms so fatal a defect in almost all pastoral poetry, 
from Virgil to Sannazzaro. In 1715 Pope published several modernized 
versions from Chaucer, as if he were desirous in all things to parallel 
his great master Dryden. He produced the Temple of Fame, and the- 
not over moral story of January and May, which is in substance the 
Merchant's Tale of the great patriarch of our literature. 



A. D. 168S-1744.] ALEXANDER POPE. 267 

§ 2. At this time, too, Pope undertook the laborious enterprise of 
translating into English verse the Iliad and the Odyssey. The work 
was to be published by subscription, and Pope was at first reduced 
almost to despair when brought face to face with the vastness of his 
undertaking: but with practice came facility, and the whole of the Iliad 
was successfully given to the world by the year 1720, and excited a fren- 
zy of admiration which found a vent in some laudatory epigrams which 
by the very extravagance of their eulogy of Pope only prove how little 
the writers understood of Homer. In a pecuniary sense this was a 
most successful venture : Pope received for his labor upwards of 3200/., 
and laid the foundation of that competence which he enjoyed with good 
sense and moderation. The Odyssey did not appear till five years later : 
and of this he himself translated only twelve of the twenty-four books, 
employing for the remaining half the assistance of the respectable con- 
temporary poets William Broome (1689-1745) and Elijah Fenton 
(1683-1730), to whom he of course paid a proportionable share of the 
proceeds. Pope selected for the form of his version that rhymed deca- 
sjllable verse of which he was so consummate a master, but which, how- 
ever beautiful as a medium for appropriate subjects, is quite unfitted, 
from the regularity of its pauses, the neatness of its structure, and the 
irresistible tendency to terminate the sense with the couplet, to repro- 
duce in English the solemn, ever-varied, resounding swell of the bil- 
low-like hexameter of Homer. The old Ionian bard is stripped of his 
flowing chlamys and his fillets, and imprisoned in the high-heeled shoes, 
the laced velvet aaat and flowing periwig, of the eighteenth century. 
Mechanically, indeed, Pope's translation is far from unfaithful ; but in 
the spirit, the atmosphere, so to saj^ of the original, the ballad-like ver- 
sion of Chapman is far superior. Bentley's criticism is, after all, the 
best and most comprehensive that has yet been made on this work : " It 
is a pretty poem, Mr. Pope, but you must not call it Homer." It will 
nevertheless be always regarded as a noble monument of our national 
literature ; and it is difficult to imagine how many readers, to whom the 
original Greek was inaccessible, have filled their minds with the bril- 
liant though refracted eff'ulgence of the great Sun of Poetry, by studying 
the graceful couplets of Pope. It is unfortunate that in their selec- 
tion of the two great epic writers as subjects of translation, Dryden and 
Pope had not exchanged parts : Dryden, though perhaps incapable of 
reproducing the wonderful freshness and grandeur of Homer, still pos- 
sessed most of the Homeric quality of fire and animation ; while Pope, 
in whom consummate grace and finish is the prevailing merit, would 
have far more successfully reproduced the unsurpassed dignity, the 
chastened majesty, of Virgil. 

§ 3. About 1717 Pope probably composed the Elegy on an U7ifortu- 
nate Lady, the Epistle from Sappho to P/iaon, borrowed from the 
Heroidcs of Ovid, and the Epistle of Eloisa to Abelard, a poem on a 
similar plan, but taking its subject from the romantic and touching 
Btory of mediaeval times. These works are all artificial in their ar- 
rangement, and in some degree also in their diction ; but the passion 



268 POPE, SWIFT, AND AUGUSTAN POETS. [Chap. XV. 

they express is so intense, and illustrated with such varied, pathetic, 
and beautiful imagery, that they will ever be considered masterpieces. 
The svibject of the first is very obscure, but it seems to have been de- 
rived from a real tale of disappointed love and suicide ; though many 
passages in the Elegy are of consummate beauty, the JSloi'sa, as a whole, 
is a finer and more sustained composition. The intense glow of unhap- 
py passion lights up the gloom and horror of the cloister with a lurid 
splendor, like that of the fabled lamps in sepulchres. During this part 
of his life Pope was living, with his father and mother, to whom he 
always showed the tenderest and most dutiful affection, at Chiswick; 
but on the death of the former parent he removed with his mother to a 
villa he had purchased at Twickenham, on a most beautiful spot on tne 
banks of the Thames. Here he passed the remainder of his life, in 
easy, if not opulent circumstances; his taste for gardening, and his 
grotto and quincunxes, in which he delighted, amused his leisure, and 
he lived in familiar intercourse with almost all the most illustrious 
statesmen, orators, and men of letters of his day — Swift, Atterbury, 
Addison, Bolingbroke, Prior, Gay, and Arbuthnot. He was perhaps 
a little too fond of talking of his own independence, and alluding, with 
affected indifference, to the great and titled guests whom he received, 
and like most men who live in a narrow clique, was very apt to treat all 
those who were outside the charmed bounds as wretches deserving only 
of contempt, and as if' all virtue, wit, and honor were exclusively con- 
fined to his own set. In 1725 he published an Edition of Shakspcare 
in six volumes, in the compilation of which he exhibited a deficiency in 
that peculiar kind of knowledge which is absolutely indispensable to 
the commentator on an old author. His work was judged by the public 
to be far inferior to the contemporary edition of Theobald's, who, 
though destitute of poetic genius, possessed more critical discernment, 
and produced a much more valuable result. For this Pope's jealous envy 
could never forgive Theobald, and we shall see by and by how savagely 
he revenged himself. During the three following years he was engaged, 
together with Swift and Arbuthnot, in composing that famous collec- 
tion of Miscellanies., to which each of the friends contributed. . The 
principal project of the fellow-laborers was the extensive satire on the 
abuses of learning and the extravagances of philosophy, entitled Me- 
moirs of Martinus Scriblerus. This was intended to be for literature 
something like what Don Qviixote was for chivalry : but the idea, though 
happily enough carried out in some of its parts by the festive and hu- 
morous wit of Arbuthnot, was not a very happy one. The contributors, 
and chiefly Pope, whose admirable satiric genius instantly deserted him 
when he abandoned verse for prose, often descend to personality and 
buffoonery, and perhaps, with the exception of Arbuthnot's inimitable 
burlesque History of John Bull, the prose portions of the Miscellanies 
are hardly worthy of the fame of their authors. Pope, however, sup- 
plied to this publication some of the finest and most brilliant of his 
poetical pieces, particularly in the department of satire. 

§ 4. The brilliant success of Pope, his steady popularity, the tinge 



A. D. 1688-1744.] ALEXANDER POPE. 269 

of vanity and malignity in his disposition, and above all the supercili- 
ous tone in which he speaks of the struggles of literary existence, then 
at a very low ebb of social respectabilitj', all conspired to raise around 
him a swarm of enemies, animated alike by envy and revenge. He 
had been frequently engaged in squabbles, in some of which his con- 
duct was far from estimable, and he determined to inflict upon his 
innumerable enemies, the gnats and mosquitos of the press, a severe 
and memorable castigation. Under the mask of zeal for reason and 
good taste he could indulge to the extreme the pleasure of chastising 
men whom he feared or hated : and in many cases there is no reason 
to doubt that he was in good faith when he identified the expression of 
personal spite with the indignant voice of taste and morality. He com- 
posed the satire of the Dunciad, the primary idea of which may have 
been suggested by Drj^den's Mac-Flecknoe, but which is incomparably 
the fiercest, most sweeping, and most powerful literary satire that exists 
in the whole range of literature. In it he flays and boils and roasts 
and dismembers the miserable scribblers he attacks, with the ferocity 
of a Mohock execution, and with more than the ingenuity of Orcagna's 
pictures of the Last Judgment. Most of the persons attacked are so 
obscure that their names are now rescued from oblivion by being em- 
balmed in Pope's satire, like worthless rubbish preserved in the lava of 
a volcano : but in the latter part of the poem, and particularly in the 
portion added in the editions of 1742 and 1743, the poet has given a 
sketch of the gradual decline and corruption of taste and learning 
in Europe, which is one of the noblest outbursts of his genius. The 
plot of the poem — the Iliad of the Dunces — is not very ingenious; 
and was borrowed from Dryden. Pope supposes that the throne of 
Dulness is left vacant hy the death of Shadwell, and that the various 
aspirants to " that bad eminence " engage iw a series of trials, like the 
Olympic Games of old, to determine who shall inherit it. In the 
original form of the poem, as it appeared in 172S and 1729, the palm 
of pedantry and stupidity was given to Theobald, Pope's successful 
rival in commenting Shakspeare. In the new edition of 1743, published 
just before the poet's death, Theobald is degraded from the throne, 
and the crown is given to Colley Gibber, an actor, manager, and 
dramatic author of the time, and who, whatever were his vices and 
frivolity, certainly was in no sense an appropriate King of the Dunces. 
But in this, as in numberless other instances. Pope's bitterness of 
enmity entirely ran away with his judgment. The poem is an ad- 
mirable — almost a fearful — example of the highest genius applied to 
the most selfish of ends — the lightning of genius, under the guise of 
chastising bad literature, burning, searing, and devouring the victims 
of self-love. 

In the four years extending from 1731 to 1735 Pope was engaged in 
the composition of his Epistles^ addres. ed to Burlington, Gobham, Ar- 
buthnot, Bathurst, and other distinguished men. These poems, half 
eatirical and half familiar, were in their manner a reproduction of the 
charming productions of Horace. Indeed Pope may not unjustly be 
23* 



270 POPE, SWIFT, AND AUGUSTAN POETS. [Chap. XV^. 

'called the English Horace, as Drjden is the English Juvenal. With 
less good-humored epicurean philosophy than the great Augustan sat- 
irist, Pope possesses a finer and more elaborate poetical spirit; in good 
sense, clearness, and neatness of diction it is difficult to give the palm 
of superiority. At the same period was produced the Essay on Man, in 
four epistles, addressed to Bolingbroke — a work of more pretension, 
and aiming at the illustration of important ethical and metaphysical 
principles. In the First Epistle Man is regarded in his relation to the 
Universe, in the Second in his relation to himself, in the Third in his 
relation to society, and in the Fourth with respect to his ideas of and 
pursuit after happiness. In the whole poem the exquisite neatness and 
concision of the language, the unvarying melody of the verse, and the 
beauty and felicity of the illustrations, are far more perceptible than 
the orignality or even soundness of the theory : but the Essay is an 
incomparable example of the highest skill in the art of so treating an 
abstract philosophical subject as to render it neither dry nor unpoetical. 
I have now arrived nearly at the end of Pope's well-filled and brilliant 
literary life. The death of his mother, of whose "declining age" he 
had " rocked the cradle " with the tenderest assiduity, the loss of many 
friends, among whom was Swift, now sinking into hopeless idiocy, the 

'increased complication of his own maladies, to whose number asthma 
and dropsy were now added — all these causes threw a gloom over his 
declining years and warned him of his approaching end. He gave to 
the world his highly-finished and brilliant Imitations of Horace, in 
which, like so many previous writers of his own and other countries, 
from Bishop Hall down to Boileau, he adapted the topics of the Roman 
satirist to the persons and vices of modern times. 

§ 5. On the 30th of May, 1744, this great poet died, unquestionably 
the most illustrious writer of his age, hardly if at all inferior to Swift 
in the vigor, tlie perfection, and the originalitj' of his genius. As a 
man he was a strange mixture of selfishness and generosity, malignity 
and tolerance: he had a peculiar tendency to indirect and cunning 
courses ; and the intense literary ambition hy which, like Voltaire, he 
was kept in an incessant fever, sometimes showed itself in personal and 
sometimes in literary meannesses and jealousies. Of this his quarrel 
with Addison is a characteristic specimen ; while his dishonorable con- 
duct towards Bolingbroke will ever be a blot upon his memory as a 
man. Among his works few of any importance have, I think, been 
left unnoticed. I should perhaps mention his Eclogue of the Messia/i, 
a happy adaptation of the Pollio of Virgil to a sacred subject, the Ode 
on St. Cecilia's Day, in which he was bold enough to try his strength 
with Dryden, and though defeated, yet without disgrace. Pope has 
selected as his illustration of the powers of Music the story of Orpheus, 
and particularly his descent into Hades for Eurydice. He composed a 
considerable number of Epitaphs, some of which are remarkable as 
exemplifying his consummate skill in the art of paying a compliment. 
In a multitude of passages throughout his works we find instances of 
this, and we may apply to him what Macaulay has so gracefully said 



A. D. 1688-1744.] ALEXANDER POPE. 271 

of Voltaire : "No man ever paid compliments better than he. His sweet- 
est confectionery had always a delicate, yet stimulating flavor, which 
was delightful to palates wearied by the coarse preparations of inferior 
artists." The Rape of the Lock, the Epistles, and even the Satires, 
abound in examples of the most artful and ingenious flatteries, often 
veiled, for greater piquancy, under an air of blame : one of the most 
perfect instances is in the closing lines in the Epitaph of young Har- 
court. 

§ 6. The subject of the Rape of the Loch, perhaps the most inimita- 
ble of Pope's productions, is the rather cavalier frolic of Lord Petre, a 
man of fashion at the court of Qiieen Anne, in cutting off a lock of 
hair from the head of Arabella Fermor, a beautiful young maid of 
honor. This incident Pope treated with so much grace and delicate 
mock-hex'oic pleasantry, that on consulting Addison on the first sketch 
of the poem, the latter strongly advised him to refrain from altering a 
*' delicious little thing," that any change would be likely to spoil. Pope, 
however, fortunately for his glory, tliough the critic's counsel was as 
prudent as it certainly was sincere, incorporated into his poem the 
delicious supernatural agency of the Sylphs and Gnomes, beings which 
he borrowed from the fantastic theories of Paracelsus and the Rosicru- 
cian philosophers. The action of these miniature divinities, being 
exquisitely proportioned to the frivolous persons and e^■'lv- <»r the 
poem, delightfully replaces the classical deities, some of who'n Tavor, 
while others oppose, the heroes of epic story from Homer downwards ; 
and is far more graceful, as well as original, than the hackneyed person- 
ification of Sloth and other abstract qualities in the famous mock-heroic 
of Boileau. The poem is a little dwarf epic in five books, and bears 
the same relation to the lofty and serious works of which it is a parody, 
as a Dresden china figure does to the Venus or the Apollo. It is all 
sparkling with the flash of diamonds and roguish gla»:es, all a flutter 
with hoop-petticoats, brocades, and powdered wigs. Book I., after a 
due Invocation, describes the counsel given by Ariel in a dream to 
Belinda, whose toilet is then inimitably described. Canto II. relates 
the sacrifice offered hy "the adventurous Baron" in the hope of suc- 
ceeding in his designs on the Lock; after which Belinda goes upon the 
water, and there is a solemn council of the Sylphs, in which their 
chief, Ariel, warns them of the impending danger. In Canto III. the 
courtly party arrives at Hampton Court, where they take coffee, and a 
game of Ombre is described with the minutest detail, and in the man- 
ner of a solemn tournament. After this the tremendous catastrophe is 
described, and the fatal scissors, furnished by a rival beauty, divide the 
fatal lock " from the fair head, forever, and forever! " Canto IV. trans- 
ports us to the gloomy abode of Spleen, and introduces us to the 
Gnomes. Sir Plume, "with earnest eyes and round, vmthinking face," 
is sent by Belinda to demand the restitution of the lock, which is re- 
fused. Canto V. describes a terrific combat — in metaphor — between 
the beaux and belles. Many of the former perish by the cruel 
glances of their fair opponents, when, in the midst of the carnage, the 



272 POPE, SWIFT, AND AUGUSTAN POETS. [Chap. XV. 

Lock, the causa teterrima belli, is suddenly snatched up into the skies, 
where it has ever since glittered as the constellation called the Tress of 
Berenice. 

§ 7. The most original genius, as well as the most striking character 
of this period, was Jonathan Swift (1667-1745), who, whether as a 
man or as a writer, occupies a foremost place in the literary and polit- 
ical history of the time. He was born in Dublin, in 1667, of English 
family and descent, his father having the appointment of Steward of 
the King's Inns. His entrance into life was unfortunate, and tended to 
aggravate a natural tendency towards haughty misanthropy and bitter 
self-reliance. His father died in very embarrassed circumstances, and 
Swift, a posthumous child, found himself from his earliest 3'ears a 
dependant upon the charity of distant relations. He passed three 3'ears 
of his infancy in England, and was afterwards sent to a school at Kil- 
kenny, whence he proceeded, in 1682, to Trinity College, Dublin. Here 
he occupied himself with irregular and desultory study, and at last 
received his degree with the unfavorable notice that it was conferred 
" speciali gratia," indicating that his conduct had not satisfied the aca- 
demical authorities. In 1688 he entered the household of Sir William 
Temple, a distant connection of his famih^, who was then residing in 
luxurious retirement at his beautiful villa of Moor Park in Surrey, 
where the cautious and sj^baritical old diplomatist amused himself with 
gardening and dilettante literature. Swift remained in Temple's ser- 
vice as a sort of humble hanger-on, secretary, and literary subordinate, 
and there is no doubt he deeply felt the miseries of dependence which 
must have intensely rankled in the memory of so proud and ambitious 
a character. Temple was frequently visited and consulted by King 
William, from whom Swift, who had occasionally been emploj^ed as a 
messenger between his patron and that prince, expected, but in vain, 
some advancenipnt. It is said that William offered Swift a commission 
in a troop of horse, and taught him the Dutch Avay of cutting and eat- 
ing asparagus. Swift's residence at Moor Park continued down to 
Temple's death in 1699, with, however, one or two intervals, in which 
he took the degree of M. A. at Oxford, and entered into holy orders on 
the Irish Church establishment, having obtained a small preferment 
on which he found it impossible to live. These temporary absences 
were caused by quarrels with his patron, whose eas}' yet supercilious 
condescension his bitter and haughty spirit could not brook; but he 
swallowed his humiliation, and begged pardon in terms which show 
how he chafed against the yoke of dependence, and explain the min- 
gled shame and anger with which in after life he recalled his connec- 
tion with Temple. During this period of his life he was industriously 
employed in study; and steady and extensive reading corrected the 
defects of his earlier education. His acquaintance with history, poe- 
try, and science was considerable, and he possessed in the highest 
degree the power of rendering instantly -available for a specific purpose 
the stores he had acquired. On Temple's death he became the literary 
executor of his patron, and prepared for the press the numerous works 



A. D. 1667-1745.] JONATHAN S}VJFT. ^ 273 

he left, which he presented, with a preface and dedication written by 
himself, to William III. 

§ 8. Failing in obtaining any preferment from that sovereign, never 
remarkable for much sympathy with letters, Swift went to Ireland as 
chaplain to Earl Berkeley, the Viceroy, and received the small livings 
of Laracor and Rathbeggan, altogether amounting to about 400/. a year. 
At Laracor he lived till 1710, amusing himself with gardening and 
repairing his church and parsonage, and making yearly visits to Eng- 
land, v/here the brilliancy of his conversation, his vigorous aptitude for 
atrairs, and his connection with Temple, rendered him acceptable to the 
leading Whig statesmen who were the ministers of the day. He be- 
came the familiar companion of the most illustrious men of the time, 
Halifax, Godolphin, Somers, as well as Addison, equally famous in 
letters and in politics. Congreve he had met when visiting Temple at 
Moor Park, and Dryden was a distant relation of Swift's familj'. Swift's 
persevering dislike to Dryden, whom he constantly underrated in after 
life, is said to have originated in the great poet's unfavorable estimate 
of'some of Swift's verses which were submitted to him, on which occa- 
sion he said, " Cousin Swift, you will never be a poet ! " His connection 
with V/illiam III. and Temple, as well as the predominance at that mo- 
ment of Whig policy, naturally caused Swift to enter public life under 
the Whig banner; but he very soon gave proof that his adherence to 
any party was merely a matter of interest and ambition, and that his 
sole motive was his own personal aggrandizement, the gratification of 
his malignant pride, and the delight of inflicting pain upon his oppo- 
nents. In 1704 was published his first important work, unquestionably 
his production, though never formally owned by him, the savage and 
yet exquisitely humorous pasquinade entitled T/ie Tale of a Tub. 
Temple had actively engaged in the furious controversy that had 
originally been raised in England between Boyle and Atterbury on the 
one hand and the illustrious Bentley on tlie other, respecting the 
genuineness of certain letters ascribed to the tyrant Phalaris. These 
letters had been edited with great parade by a clique of Oxford wits 
and pretended philologers ; and the unequalled knowledge and acumen 
of the greatest of English, perhaps the greatest of all Hellenists, had 
instantly pronounced them spurious, and completely unmasked the 
quackery and sciolism of the Oxford scholars. The dispute originating 
in a mere personal squabble with Bentley, who had been, though 
unjustly, accused of discourtesy in his capacity of librarian to the 
University of Cambridge", soon embraced the then violently-contested 
question of the relative superiority of the Ancients and the Moderns. 
This was a dispute which involved almost all the nations of the Conti- 
nent, and Temple had engaged in the discussion on the side of the An- 
cients, exhibiting a lamentable deficiency of knowledge and common 
sense.* Swift became the champion of the same side, and gave a 
striking foretaste of those tremendous powers of sarcasm and vitupera- 

* For a fuller account of this controversy, see Notes and Illustrations to 
Ch. XVI. 



274 POPE, SWIFT, AND AUGUSTAN POETS. [Chap. XV. 

tion which made him the most formidable pamphleteer that ever exist- 
ed. The merits of the case he does not attempt to tovich ; but with the 
wildest and most grotesque oddity of invention, and the vmscrupulous 
use of everything coarse, familiar, and ludicrous in language, he strives 
to cover his opponents with ignominy and contempt. The plan of the 
pamphlet is in no respect original ; it describes a general engagement 
between the Ancients and the Moderns, in a sort of parody of the 
Homeric battles ; but the boldness and fertility of the abuse show how 
great a master had appeared of the whole vocabulary of insult. Like a 
Chinese piratical junk, he gains his victory by the loathsome offensive- 
ness of the stink-pots which he hurls. 

In 1708 Archbishop King, Primate of Ireland, employed Swift to 
negotiate, in the name of the Irish clergy, with the English government, 
for the abandonment of their claim to the first-fruits and tenths, a 
species of fines paid on the institution to benefices in the Church : 
and with this intention he visited England, and exhibited great activity 
and intelligence, but without obtaining the result he desired. He had 
now rendered himself a prominent person both in his profession and 
in the general world of politics, was known and feared as a powerful 
and unscrupulous pamphleteer, and was the familiar associate of those 
who were at the head of affairs ; but his hopes of preferment were not 
fulfilled. At this time he regarded Ireland with a mixture of contempt 
and detestation, and was eager for any advancement that would enable 
him to reside in England, near the focus of literary and political 
activity; and his failure urged him to an act characteristic of his 
temper. He unceremoniously abandoned his former party, and began 
to write, to intrigue, and to satirize, with even greater force, vehe- 
mence, and success, on the side of the Tories. 

§ 9. Harley, afterwards created Earl of Oxford, and St. John, better 
known as the brilliant but unprincipled Bolingbroke, were now at the 
head of affairs. So formidable a political condottiere as Swift they 
naturally received with open arms ; as a deserter from the enemy's 
camp he brought with him not only the zeal of the apostate, but a 
damaging knowledge of the secrets of the adversary's tactics, and Swift 
was not a man to scruple to use any advantage he possessed. He 
became more useful to his present than he had evfer been to his former 
party, and was caressed and flattered by the great, the fair, the witty, 
and the wise. He affected to treat men of the highest rank with the 
freedom and familiarity of an equal, and this somewhat parvenu air 
was forgiven in consideration of his undoubted talents and the services 
which he rendered with his terrible pen. His negotiation about the 
first-fruits and tenths was successfully terminated, and he poured forth 
with unexampled rapidity squib after squib and pamphlet after pamphlet, 
employing all the stores of his unequalled fancy and powerful sophistry 
to defend his party and to blacken and ridicule his antagonists. The 
great object of his ambition was an English bishopric, and the min- 
isters would have been willing enough to gratify him ; but he encoun- 
tered secret hostility, such as a man of such a stamp could not fail to 



A. D. 1667-1745] JONATHAN SWIFT. 275 

have aroused. Sharp, then Archbishop of York, represented to the 
Qi^ieen that high preferment could not with propriety be conferred upon 
a man whose writings, as in the case of the Tale of a Tub, verged upon 
the verj brink of profanity and indecency; but a still more fatal hos- 
tility was that of the Queen's favorite, the Duchess of Somerset, whom 
Swift had lampooned in a manner that the meekest of her sex could not 
forgive. Swift's bitter and cruel verses had indeed been suppressed as 
soon as printed, but the Duchess threw herself at the Queen's feet with 
a copy of the pasquinade, and he \Qa.vned furen'^ quid fcmi'na possit. 
In spite of the strongest desire to do more for their supporter, the min- 
isters were obliged to confine his recompense to the deanery of St. 
Patrick's, Dublin, to which he was nominated, to his extreme disap- 
pointment, in 1713. He was soon recalled from Ireland, whither he 
had been called by the business of his installation, by the news of an 
irremediable breach between Harley and Bolingbroke. Swift vainly 
interfered to recctficile the statesmen, upon whose union depended the 
whole stability of the government : he found Harley timid, pompous, 
and reserved, and St. John volatile and insolent, and after intense but 
fruitless eiforts to heal their dissension Swift again retired. This took 
place in 1714. Bolingbroke, combining with Mrs. Masham, the Qiieen's 
favorite, who, rising from a humble and almost menial position, had 
gradually succeeded in ousting the imperious Duchess of Marlborough 
from the favor of that weak princess, succeeded in turning out Harley, 
whom the Queen abandoned under pretext of his having appeared 
before her flustered with wine. But St. John's triumph was short. The 
death of Anne and the accession of the Elector of Hanover recalled the 
Whigs to power; the ministry were accused, and with strong grounds 
of probability, of a plot for bringing back the Pretender, and thus nulli- 
fying the Protestant succession ; Oxford and Atterbury were committed 
to the Tower, Bolingbroke fled beyond the sea, and soon made his 
appearance in the exiled court of St. Germains, and Swift retired to 
Ireland, where he was received with a universal yell of contempt and 
execration. 

§10. During his long and repeated visits to England Swift's com- 
pany and conversation had always been sought after by men of letters 
as well as statesmen. He founded, together with Harley and other 
friends, a sort of Club called the Society of Brothers, in which many 
of his most amusing political squibs were concocted ; and with Pope, 
Gay, and Arbuthnot, he formed what was called the Scriblerus Club, the 
members of which were united by the closest intimacy, and threw into 
a common stock their ideas embodied in the famous Miscellanies. From 
1714 to 1720 Swift resided principally in Ireland, and from being an 
object of detestation raised himself to a height of popularity which has 
never been surpassed even in the stormy political atmosphere of that 
country. The condition of Ireland, always a cancer and a disgrace to 
Britain, was just then unusually deplorable ; the population torn by 
bitter rivahy and mutual persecution between the dominating Protestant 
and the enslaved and impoverished Catholics, while the national evil 



276 POPE, SWIFT, AND AUGUSTAiV POETS. [Chap. XV. 

of absenteeism had reduced the agricultural classes to the loAvest abj'ss 
of misery and degradation. In some degree, perhaps, from motives of 
philanthropy, but far more, probably, out of a desire to annoy and em- 
barrass the English government, Swift boldly proclaimed the misery 
of the counti-y, and the force and bitterness of his pamphlets soon 
drew down the persecution of the Ministers. A State prosecution was 
instituted against the printer, which the Government made desperate 
but unavailing efforts, by means of subservient judges and packed 
juries, to carry to a conviction. But the highest point of Swift's Irish 
popularity was attained by the seven famous letters which he wrote, 
signed HI. B. D rapier (draper), and inserted in a Dublin newspaper. 
The occasion was the attempt, on the part of the English ministry, to 
force in Ireland the circulation of a large sum of copper money, the 
contract for coining which had been undertaken by William Wood, a 
Birmingham speculator. This money Swift endeavored to persuade 
the people was enormously below its nominal value, and he counselled 
all true patriots not only to refuse to take it, but to refrain from using 
any English manufactures whatever. The force and animation of his 
arguments, and the exquisite skill with which hewoie his mask of a 
plain, honest, patriotic tradesman, excited the impressionable Ii-ish 
almost to frenzy. As Swift afterwards boasted to Archbishop Boulter, 
he would have had but to lift his finger to cause the ministry to be tora 
in pieces. The government was obliged to renounce the project of 
Wood's coinage, and the attorney-general's indictment of Harding, the 
printer of the letters, though maintained by all the violence of Whit- 
shed, was ignored by the jury. Swift was known to be the real author 
of the letters, and his defence of the rights of the Irish people made 
him from this moment the idol of that warm-hearted and impres- 
sionable race. 

From 1724 to 1737 Swift was occupied with the production not only 
of his greatest and most immortal woi-k, the Travels of Gulliver, but 
with an infinity of pamphlets and occasional compositions. He visited 
England in 1726, when Gulliver was brought out, exciting a universal 
burst of delight and admiration. The death of Stella, one of the few 
beings that Swift ever really loved, happened in 1728, and the loss of 
many friends further contributed to darken and intensify the gloom of 
this proud and sombre spirit. He had from an early period suifered 
more or less constantly from giddiness and pain in the head ; and the 
fearful anticipations of insanity which had constantly haunted him 
were destined to be cruelly verified. In 1741 he was afflicted with a 
painful inflammation which necessitated restraint, and which gradually 
merged into a state of idiocy that lasted without interruption till his 
death in 1745. During the last three years of this period he is said 
Hever to have spoken, and to have shown an almost complete uncon- 
sciousness ; and there is nothing recorded more melancholy or more 
instructive than the spectacle of this great wit and satirist, without any 
attendance save that of mercenary hands, — for his own unaccountable 
and selfish conduct had deprived him of the comforts of a family, — 



A. D. 1667-1745.] JONATHAN SWIFT. 277 

expiring, *' a driveller and a show." He is buried in his own cathedral 
of St. Patrick's, and over his grave is inscribed that epitaph which he 
composed for himself, and which is one of the most tragic and terrible 
of human compositions : in it he speaks of resting " ubi soeva indig- 
natio ulterius cor lacerare nequit; " a fearfully vivid portraiture of his 
own character. 

§ 11. Mv account of Swift would be imperfect without some mention 
of those extraordinary events which are connected with his relations 
towards the two unhappy women whose love for him was the glory and 
the misery of their lives. While residing in Temple's family he became 
acquainted with Esther Johnson, a beautiful young girl brought up as 
a dependant in the house, and who, though passing for the daughter 
of Sir William's steward, appeal's' really to have been a natural child 
of the old diplomatist. To her, while hardly in her teens. Swift gave 
instruction ; and the bond between master and pupil ripened into the 
deepest and tenderest passion on the part of the maiden, and as much 
attachment on that of the former as the proud and bitter nature of 
Swift was capable of feeling. . Having inherited a small fortune, Swift 
induced Stella — such was the poetical name he gave her — to settle 
with her friend Mrs. Dingley in Ireland, where he maintained with 
both of them — though Mrs. Dingley was merely a mask to save ap- 
pearances — that long, curious, and intimate correspondence which 
has since been published as his Journal to Stella. In it we see the 
unbending of this haughty spirit: he addresses his correspondent in 
the fondest puerilities of his "little language," and while giving the 
minutest account of his thoughts and doings from day to day, he inter- 
ests us with a thousand details concerning the political and literary life 
of the time. \ The journal is full of the most affectionate aspirations 
after a tranquil retreat in the society of " little M. D.," and there can be 
hardly any doubt that Swift anticipated marrying Stella, while Stella's 
whole life was filled with the same hope. During one of his visits to 
London Swift became intimate with the family of a rich merchant 
named Vanhomrigh, over whose daughter Hester, to whom he gave 
the name c ' Vanessa, he exerted the, same kind of enchantment as he 
had exhibited in gaining the affections of Stella, a power indeed which 
Swift seems to have eminently possessed over the imagination of women, 
however inexplicable it may be, when we think of the bitterness and 
coldness of his nature. From at first directing her studies he succeeded, 
perhaps involuntarily on his part at first, in inspiring an ardent, beau- 
tiful, and accomplished girl with a passion so deep and intense, that 
the difi'erence of age only makes more difficult to explain. He seem.s 
to have played with this attachment, alternately exciting and discour- 
aging hopes in poor Vanessa; while his letters to Stella in Ireland grow 
gradually colder and more formal. On the death of her father Miss 
Vanhomrigh, who possessed an independent fortune, retired to a villa 
at Celbridge in Ireland, where Swift continued his visits, but without 
clearing up to one of these unhappy ladies the nature of his relations 
with the other. At last Vinessa, driven almost to madness by suspense 



278 POPE, SWIFT, AND AUGUSTAN POETS. [Chap. XV. 

and irritation, wrote to Stella to inquire into the nature of SAvift's 
position with regard to her. The letter was intercepted by Swift, and 
brought back by him, and thrown down without a word, but with a 
terrible countenance, before the unhappy writer. Swift left her, and 
never saw her more ; and poor Vanessa died a few weeks afterwards 
(1723), being one of the rare examples of death of a broken heart. 
Stella, whose health was entirely broken, implored Swift to render hei 
the poor justice of calling her his wife; and it is said that the ceremony 
of marriage was privately performed in the garden, though Swift never 
either recognized her in public, or changed his strange rule of never 
living in the same house with her, or even seeing her otherwise than in 
the presence of a third person. This rule had been observed ever since 
Stella's first settlement in Ireland. This unhappy victim of Swift's 
eccentric selfishness — the second — died in 1728; and in the notices he 
wrote of her, while smarting under the agony of her recent loss, it is 
impossible not to see a love as intense as its manifestation had been 
singular and inexplicable. 

§ 12. The greatest and most characteristic of Swift's prose works is 
the Voyages of Gulliver, a vast and all-embracing satire upon human- 
ity itself, though many of the strokes were at the time intended to 
allude to particular persons and contemporary events. The general 
plan of this book is the following : It is written in the character of a 
plain, unaffected, honest ship-surgeon, who describes the strange scenes 
and adventures through which he passes with that air of simple, 
straightforward, prosaic good faith that gives so much charm to the 
narratives of our brave old navigators, and which Defoe has so suc- 
cessfully mimicked in Robinso7i Crusoe. The contrast between the 
extravagance of the inventions and the gravity with which they are 
related, forms precisely the point of the peculiar humor of Swift, and 
is equally' perceptible in other works, while it was the distinguishing 
feature of that singular saturnine kind of pleasantry which made his 
conversation so sought after. He is said never to have been known to 
laugh; but to have poured forth the quaintest and most fantastic inven- 
tions with an air of gravity and sternness that kept his audience in 
convulsions of merriment. \ This admirable fiction consists of four 
parts or voyages : in the first Gulliver visits the country of Lilliput, 
whose inhabitants are about six inches in stature, and where all the 
objects, houses, trees, ships, and animals, are in exact proportion to 
the miniature human beings. Indeed, one of the principal secrets of 
Swift's humor, as well as of the power he possesses over the imagina- 
tion — I had almost said the belief — of the reader, is the exquisite and 
watchful manner in which these proportions are preserved. The author 
never forgets himself in this respect; naj^, he has managed to give to 
the passions, the ambition, the ceremonies, and the religion of his 
diminutive people an air of the same littleness as invests the physical 
objects. The invention displayed in the droll and surprising incidents 
is as unbounded as the natural and bofid-Jide air with which they are 
recounted ; and we can hardly wonder at the exclamation of the learned 



A. D. I667-I745-] JONATHAN SWIFT. 279 

bishop, who is said to have cried out, " That there were some things in 
Gulliver that he could not quite believe ! " The second voyage is to 
Brobdingnag, a country of enormous giants, of about sixty feet in 
height; and here Gulliver plays the same part as the insect-like Lilli- 
putians had played to him. As in the first voyage, the contemptible 
and ludicrous side of human things is shown by exhibiting how trifling 
they would appear in almost microscopic proportions, so in Brobding- 
nag we are made to perceive how odious and ridiculous would appear 
our politics, our wars, and our ambitions, to the gigantic perceptions 
of a more mighty race. The lesson is the same ; but we learn it by 
looking through the other end of the telescope. The Third Part, 
which is generally found inferior, from the want of unity in the objects 
of representation, to the preceding voyages, carries Gulliver to a series 
of strange and fantastic countries. The first is Laputa, a flying island, 
inhabited by philosophers and astronomers. Here Swift intended to 
satirize the follies and abuses of learning and science; but indepen- 
dently of the fact that much of this part, as the Academy of Lagado, 
is borrowed from Lucian, Rabelais, and other satirists, his strokes of 
ridicule are not always very well directed, and fall pointless, being 
levelled against imaginary follies. From Lagado the traveller goes to 
Glubbdubdrib and then to Luggnagg, which latter episode introduces 
the terrific description of the Struldbrugs, wretches who are cursed 
with bodily immortality without preserving at the same time their 
intellects or their affections. 

Gulliver's last voyage is to the country of the Houyhnhnms, a region 
in which horses are the reasoning, civilized, and dominant beings ; and 
where men, under the name of Yahoos, are degraded to the rank of 
noxious, filthy, and unreasoning brutes. The manner in which Swift 
has described the latter, retaining a resemblance to man in their pro- 
pensities which only renders them more horrible and loathsome, shows 
how intense were his hatred and scorn of humanity. The satire goes 
on, deepening as it advances; playful and amusing in the scenes of Lil- 
liput, it grows blacker and bitterer at every step, till in the Yahoos it 
reaches a pitch of almost insane ferocity, which there is but too much 
reason to believe faithfully embodied Swift's real opinion of his fellow- 
creatures. 

§ 13. In the Tale of a Tub he gives a burlesque allegorical account 
of the three great sects of Christianity, the Roman Catholic, the Lu- 
theran, and the Calvinistic churches. These are represented with the 
wildest and most farcical extravagance of incident, under the form of 
three brothers, Peter, Jack, and Martin ; and their squabbles and ulti- 
mate separation figure the Reformation and its consequences. Between 
the chapters of narrative are interposed what Swift calls digressions^ in 
Vx'hich the most ludicrous fancies are embodied in a degree of out-of-the- 
way learning not to be met with in any other of his works. Everything 
that is droll and familiar in ideas and language is concentrated in this 
extraordinary production, and many of the pleasantries are suflliciently 
irreverent to justify the accusation of his religious belief not being very 



280 rOPE, SWIFT, AND AUG US TAIi POETS. [Chap. XV. 

firmly fixed. The innumerable pamphlets and political and historical 
tracts poured forth bv Swift, as his Conduct of the Allies, the Public 
Spirit of the Whigs, the Last Tears of ^ueen An?ie. his contributions 
to journals, his Sentiments of a Church of England Man, his remarks 
on the Sacramental Test, and a multitude of others, being written on 
local and temporary subjects, are now little consulted ; they all exhibit 
the vigor of his reasoning, the admirable force and directness of his 
style, and his' unscrupulous ferocity- of invective. They are all, what- 
ever be their nature, party pamphlets of the most virulent kind, in which 
the author was never restrained by any feeling of his own dignity, or of 
candor and indulgence for others, from overwhelming his opponents 
with ridicule and abuse. He is like the Indian savage,-'who, in torturing 
his captive at the stake, cares little how he wounds and burns himself, 
so long as he can make his victim writhe; or, like the street ruiiian, 
who, in hurling ordure on his antagonist, is indifferent to the filth that 
may stick to his own fingers. The bitterness, as well as the power, of 
these writings is often something almost diabolical. Many of his 
smaller prose writings are purely satirical, as his Polite Co7iversatio?i 
and Directions to Serva?its: In the former he has combined in a sort 
of comic manual all the vulgar repartees, nauseous jokes, and selling of 
bargains, that were at that time common in smart conversation ; and in 
the hitter, under the guise of ironical precepts, he shows how minute 
and penetrating had been his observations of the Ij'ing, pilfering, and 
dirty practices of servants. Perhaps the plcasantest, as they are the 
most innocent, of his prose pleasantries, are the papers written in the 
character of Isaac B'ckerstaff, where he shovvs up, v/ith exquisite drol- 
lery, the quackerj'- of the astrologer Partridge. His letters are very 
numerous ; and those addressed to his intimate friends, as Pope and 
Gay, and those written to Sheridan, half-friend and half-butt, contain 
inimitable specimens of his peculiar humor, which has been excellently 
described by Coleridge as " anima Rabekesii habitans in sicco." The 
three greatest satirical wits of modern times possess each a peculiar 
manner. Rabelais, with his almost frantic animal spirits, pours forth 
a side-shaking mixture of erudition and ingenious bufi'oonerj' ; Voltaire, 
with his sly grin of contempt, makes everything he attacks appear at 
once odious and despicable ; but Swift inspires us with loathing as well 
as with contempt. We laugh with Rabelais, we sneer with Voltaire ; 
with Swift we despise and Ave abhor. He will not only be ever regarded 
as one of the greatest masters of English prose, but his poetical works 
will give him a prominent place among the writers of his age. The}' 
are, however, most strongly contrasted in their style and manner to the 
type most prevalent at the time, and of which Pope is the most complete 
representative. They have no pretension to loftiness of language, are 
written in the sermo pedestris, in a tone studiously preserving the famil- 
iar expression of common life. In nearly all of them Swift adopted the 
short octosyllable verse that Prior and Gay had rendered popular. The 
poems show the same wonderful acquaintance with ordinary incidents 
as the prose compositions, the same intense observation of human 



A. D. 1667-I735-] ARBUTIINOT. 281 

nature, and the same profoundly misanthropic view of maiikind. The 
longest of the narrative writings, Cade?ius (Decanus, an anagram indi- 
cating the Dean himself) and Vanessa, is at the same time the least 
interesting. It gives an account, though not a very clear one, of the 
love-episode which terminated so fatally for poor Hester Va,nhomrigh, 
The most likely to remain popular are the Verses on my oivn Death, 
describing the mode in which that event, and Swift's own character, 
would be discussed among his friends, his enemies, and his acquaint- 
ances ; and perhaps there is no composition in the world which gives so 
easy, animated a picture, at once satirical and true, of the language and 
sentiments of ordinary society. He produced an infinity of small bur- 
lesques and pleasantries, in prose and verse, as for example. The Grand 
^uestio7i Debated, in which he has, with consummate skill and humor, 
adopted the maundering style of a vulgar servant-maid. Shakspeare 
himself, in Mrs. Qiiickly and in Juliet's Nurse, has not more accurately 
seized the peculiarities of the lower class. A thousand parodies, jests, 
punning Latin and English letters,''epigrams and descriptions might be 
cited. Many of them are slight toys of the fancy, but they are toys 
executed with the greatest perfection, and in some, as the Legion Club, 
the verses on Bettesworth and Lord Cutts, the ferocious satire of Swift 
is seen in its full intensity : they are little sparkling bubbles, but they 
are blown from vitriolic acid. 

§ 14. No member of the brilliant society of which Pope and Swift 
were the chief luminaries, deserves more respect, both for his intel- 
lectual and personal qualities, than Dr. John Arbuthnot (1667-1735). 
He was of Scottish origin, and enjoyed high reputatipn as a physician, 
in which capacity he remained attached to the court from 1709 till the 
death of Queen Anne. He was one of the most lovable, as well as the 
most learned and accomplished wits of the daj^, and was a chief con- 
tributor to those Miscellanies of which I have so' often spoken in 
connection with Pope. He is supposed to have conceived the plan of 
that extensive satire on the abuses of learning, embodied in the Me- 
moirs of Martinus Scriblerus, and to have indeed executed the best 
portions of that comprehensive though fragmentary work, and in par- 
ticular the description of the pedantic education given to his son by the 
learned Cornelius. But the fame of Arbuthnot is more intimately 
connected with the inimitable History of John Bull, in which the 
intrigues and Wars of the Succession are so drolly caricatured. The 
object of the work was to render the prosecution of the war by Marl- 
borough unpopular with the nation ; but the adventures of Squire South 
(Austria), Lewis Baboon (France), Nic. Frog (Holland), and Lord 
Strutt (the King of Spain), are related with fun, odd humor, and 
familiar vulgarity of language. There is much of the same kind of 
humor as we find in the Tale of a Tub, and in Gulliver ; but Arbuth- 
not is always good-natured, and there is no trace of that fierce bitterness 
and misanthropy which tinge every page of Swift. In the latter part 
of the History Arbuthnot details with great humor some of the political 
intrigues of the English ministry, and in particular the way in which 
24* 



282 POPE, SWIFT, AND AUGUSTAN POUTS. [Chap. XV. 

the Scottish Presbyterian party were tricked bj' the Earl of Nottingham 
into assenting to the bill for Occasional Conformity. The characters of 
the various nations and parties are conceived and maintained with 
consummate spirit; and perhaps the popular ideal of John Bull, with 
which Englishmen are so fond of identifying their personal and national 
peculiarities, was first stamped and fixed by Arbuthnot's -amusing bur- 
lesque. Besides these well-known pleasantries Arbuthnot's fertile and 
festive genius produced others in the same manner, as the Ar^ of Politi- 
cal Lying, and the Memoirs of P. P. Clerk of this Parish, intended to 
caricature the trifling and egotistic details of Brunet's History. He was 
also the author of many learned tracts both in general literature and in 
subjects more immediately professional; and he seems to have fully 
deserved the admiration lavished upon him by all his friends, as an 
accomplished scholar, an able and benevolent physician, and a wit of 
singular brilliancy and fertility. 

§ 15. Matthew Prior (1664-1 721) was a poet and diplomatist of 
this time, who plaj^ed a prominent part on the stage of politics as well 
as on that of literature. He was of humble origin, and after receiving 
a commencement of education in Westminster School, is said to have 
been obliged to pass some time with an uncle who kept a tavern in 
London, and in whose house the lad was employed in serving the cus- 
tomers. His scholarship is related to have attracted the notice of the 
splendid and generous Dorset, who enabled him to finish his studies at 
St. John's College, Cambridge, where he distinguished himself and 
obtained a small fellowship. He took part with Montagu, another of 
his patrons, in the composition of the Country Mouse and City Alouse, 
a poem intended to ridicule Dryden's Hind and Panther ; and the door 
of public employment was soon opened to him. His career in the 
diplomatic service was brilliant : after accompanying Berkeley, Ambas- 
sador to the Hague, as Secretary, he became Secretary of Legation at 
the Peace of Ryswick, and received a considerable pecuniary gratifica- 
tion from the Government. He twice resided at Versailles in the 
capacitj' of envoy, and by his talents in negotiation as well as by his 
wit and accomplishments in society appears to have been very popular 
among the French. Many stories are related of his address in polished 
repartee, in which he showed himself not inferior to the Parisian wits 
and men of letters. On returning to England he v/as made a Commis- 
sioner of Trade, and in 1701 became a member of the House of Com- 
mons. Though he had entered public life as a partisan of the Whigs, 
he now deserted them for the Tories, on the occasion of the impeach- 
ment of Lord Somers ; and he again went to Paris, where he lived in 
great splendor during the negotiations in which Bolingbroke acceded to 
the disgraceful Treaty of Utrecht. In 1715 he was ordered into custody 
by the Whigs, on a charge of high treason, and remained two years in 
confinement. The worst result to Prior of this political persecution 
was the loss of all his fortune, his means of subsistence being now 
nearly reduced to the small revenue of his college fellowship, which in 
the days of his splendor he had refused to give up, prudently calculat- 



A. D. I688-I732-] PRIOR. GAY. 283 

ing that the time might come when he would be glad to possess even 
so small an income. However, with the assistance of his friends, he 
published by subscription a collection of his works, the proceeds of 
which amounted to a considerable sum. • Prior was an easy Epicurean 
philosopher of the Horatian stamp, and accommodated himself with 
facility to every change of fortune. His longer and more ambitious 
poems are Alma, a metaphysical discussion carried on in easy, unem- 
barrassed Hudibrastic verse, exhibiting a good deal of thought and 
learning disguised under an easy conversational garb; and the Epic 
entitled Solomon, a poem somewhat in the manner, and with the same 
defects as the Davideis of Cowley. A work of considerable length, 
and ambitious in its character, is the dialogue entitled Henry and 
Emma, modernized, and spoiled in the modernizing, from the exqui- 
site old ballad of the Niitbroxvne Alaide. The transference to modern 
times, and the expression in the smooth verse of the correct school of 
poets, of the simple passion and picturesque sentiment of the ancient 
poem, is like the appearance of Homer in the version of Pope. Prior's 
two claims to admiration are his easy, animated, half-tender, half- 
libertine love-songs, many of which exhibit the same union of natural 
though not profound sentiment with a sort of philosophic gayety and 
carelessness that form the peculiar charm of the French chansonniers. 
Prior composed a number of Tales in verse, in the same style as the 
Contes of La Fontaine, showing much similarity with that class of 
productions of the inimitable fabulist, but open to the same objection 
— an objection which will now exclude them from the reading of oui 
more fastidious age — of occasional immorality in their subjects and 
treatment. 

§ 16. The name of John Gay (1688-1732) is one of the most attrac- 
tive among the brilliant literary stars that make up the constellation 
of which Pope and Swift were the leading luminaries. He was one of 
those easy, amiable, good-natured men who are the darlings of their 
friends, and whose talents excite admiration without jealous3% while their 
characters are the object rather of fondness than respect. He was born 
1688, and carried oif prematurely by an inflammatory fever, in 1732; 
and his death filled the jealous Pope with sorrow, and forced tears even 
from the hard and cynical eyes of Swift. He entered life in a humble 
station, as a linen-draper's shopman, but soon exchanged this occupa- 
tion for a dependence upon the great, which was not more favorable 
either to happiness or self-respect, and for a vain pining after public 
employment and court favor for which his indolent and self-indulgent 
habits rendered him singularly unfit. His most important poetical 
productions at the beginning of his career were the collection of Ec- 
logues entitled The Sliepherd's Week, and the original and charmingly 
executed mock-didactic poem. Trivia, or the Art of Walking- the 
Streets of London. In the former, consisting of seven pastorals, he 
originallj^ intended a parody on Ambrose Philips, whose writings were 
the general butt or ridicule to Pope and his friends ; but the work of 
Gay is so fresh and pleasant, and his descriptions of real English rural 



284 POPE, SWIFT, AND AUGUSTAN POETS. [Chap. XV. 

nature and peasant life are so agreeable that his composition will 
always be read with pleasure for its intrinsic merit. Like Spenser 
before him, Gay gave a national color to his personages and to his 
landscape, but his incidents and the general tone of his dialogues are 
comic. He has shown great address in applying the topics of The- 
ocritus and Virgil to the customs, employments, and superstitions of 
English peasants, and he has endeavored to heighten the effect by the 
occasional employment of antiquated and provincial expressions. The 
Trivia is interesting, not only for its ease and quiet humor, but for the 
curious details it gives us of the sti-eet scenery, costume, and manners 
of that time. Gay produced several dramatic works, principally of a 
comic nature, and interspersed with .songs, for the composition of which 
he showed an almost unrivalled talent : I may mention What d'ye Call 
it f a sort of half-pastoral extravaganza, and the farce of Three Hours 
after Marriage. Gay's pieces generally contained, or were supposed 
to contain, occasional political allusions, the piquancy of which greatly 
contributed to their popularitj-. They are also seldom free from a 
somewhat loose and immoral tendency. His most successful venture was 
the Beggars' Opera, the idea of which is said to have been first sug- 
gested by Swift, when residing, in 1726, at Pope's villa at Twickenham. 
The idea of this piece is eminently happy : it was to transfer the songs 
and incidents of the Italian Opera — then almost a noveltj^ in England, 
and in the blaze of popularity — to the lowest class of English life. The 
hero of the Beggars' Opera is a highwajman. and gaolers, pickpockets, 
' and prostitutes form the dramatis personee, while the scene is princi- 
pally in Newgate. In a word, to use Swift's expression, it was a kind 
of Newgate pastoral, and was a sort of parody of the opera then in 
vogue, while it became the origin of the English Opera. The beauty 
and charming voTce of Elizabeth Fenton, who first acted Polh', the 
satirical allusions plentifully scattered through the dialogue, and eager- 
\y caught up by the parties of the day, the novelty and oddity of the 
whole spectacle, and above all, the exquisite beauty of the songs plen- 
tifully interspersed throughout, gave the Beggars' Opera an unpar- 
alleled success. Pollj^ became the idol of the town, and was removed 
fi'om the stage to share the coronet of a duke ; and Gay acquired from 
the performance of his piece the very large sum of nearly 700/. He 
was encouraged by success to endeavor to continue in the same strain, 
and produced a kind of continuation called Polly, which, though far 
inferior, was even more profitable, for being prohibited on the gro ;nd 
of political allusions, by the authority of the Lord Chamberlain, the 
opposition party, in order to spite the court, contributed so liberally to 
its publication that Gay is said to have cleared about iioo/. The poet, 
vi^ith that sanguine improvidence which characterized him, had previ- 
ously met with severe losses in the famous South Sea mania; but 
grown wiser by experience, and profiting by the advice of friends who 
possessed more practical common sense than himself, he determined to 
husband the little fortune he had accumulated. He was received into 
tlie family of the Duke and Duchess of Qtieensberry, where he seians 



A.D. 1618-1765.] GARTH. PARNELL. TICKELL. YOUNG. 285 

to have been petted like some favorite lapdog, till his death in 1732. 
He was the author of a collection of Fables in easy octosyllable verse, 
which he wrote to contribute to the education of William Duke of 
Cumberland ; and though these are the best-known and most frequently 
cited works of the kind in our language, they will be found immeasu- 
rably inferior in wit, profound sense, picturesqueness, and above all in 
the rare, precious quality of intense national spirit, to the immortal 
fables of La Fontaine and of Krinloff. They retain their popularity 
froin their figuring in every collection of poetry for the young, their 
style rendering them peculiarly adapted for reading and learning by 
heart. Gay's songs and ballads, whether those introduced into the 
Beggars' Opera and other dramatic works, or those written separately, 
are among the most musical, touching, playful, and charming that exist 
in the language. The diction and subject are often of the most familiar 
kind, but the grace of the expression, and the flowing harmony of the 
verse, make them, whether pathetic or lively, masterpieces of skill. 
They have, too, invariably that rare and high attribute of the best 
song-writing, that the very march of the number irresistibly suggests 
the air to which they are to be sung. 

§ 17. My space will only permit a cursory mention of Sir Samt el 
Garth (died in 1718), a Whig phj'^sician of eminence, whose poem of 
The Dispensary, written on occasion of a squabble between the ColLge 
of Phj'Sicians and the Apothecaries' Company, was half satirical iind 
half a plea in favor of giving medical assistance to the poor; Thoima.S 
Parnell (1679-1718), a friend of Pope and Swift, who held a liviii.3 m 
Ireland, and is known chiefly by his graceful but somewhat feeble tv/e 
of The Hermit, a versified parable founded on a striking story oriji,!- 
nally derived from the Gesta Romajzorum ; and Thomas Tickell (i686- 
1740), celebrated for his friendship with the accomplished Adaison, 
whose death suggested a noble elegj^ the only work of Tickell which 
rises above the elegant mediocrity that marks the general tone of the 
minor poetry of that age. Tickell contributed papers to the Spectator^ 
and also published a translation of the first book of the Iliad, which 
led to a misunderstanding between Addison and Pope (see p. -293). 
Tickell published a collected edition of Addison's works. 

§ 18- I now come to Edward Young (1681-1765), the most power- 
ful of the secondary poets of the epoch. He began his career in the 
unsuccessful pursuit of fortune in the public and diplomatic service of 
the country. Disappointed in his hopes and somewhat soured in his 
temper, he entered the church, and serious domestic losses still further 
intensified a natural tendency to morbid and melancholy reflection. 
He obtained his first literary fame by his satire entitled th<* Lox^e of 
Fame, the Universal Passion, written before he had abandoned a secu- 
lar career. It is in rhyme, and bears considerable resemblance to the 
manner of Pope, though it is deficient in that exquisite grace and neat- 
ness which distinguish the latter. In referring the vice? and follies 
of mankind chiefly to vanity and the foolish desire of applause. 
Young exhibits a false and narrow view of human motives ; but there 



286 POPE, SWIFT, AND AUGUSTAN POETS. [Chap. XV. 

are many passages in the three epistles which compose this satire, that 
exhibit strong powers of observation and description, and a keen and 
vigorous expression which, though sometimes degenerating into that 
tendency to paradox and epigram which are the prevailing defect of 
Young's genius, are not unworthy of his great model. The Second 
Epistle, describing the character of women, may be compared, without 
altogether losing in the parallel, to Pope's admirable, work on the same 
subject. But Young's place in the history of English poetry — a place 
long a very high one, and which is likely to remain a far from unenvia- 
ble one — is due to his striking and original poem The Night Thoughts. 
This work, consisting of nine nights or meditations, is in blank verse, 
and consists of reflections on Life, Death, Immortality, and all the 
most solemn subjects that can engage the attention of the Chi-istian 
and the philosopher. The general tone of the work is sombre and 
gloomy, perhaps in some degree affectedly so, for though the author 
perpetually parades the melancholy personal circumstances under 
which he wrote, ovei^whelmed by the rapidly-succeeding losses of many 
who were dearest to him, the reader can never get rid of the idea that 
the grief and desolation were purposely exaggerated for effect. In 
spite of this, however, the grandeur of Nature and the sublimity of 
the Divine attributes are so forcibly and eloquently depicted, the argu- 
ments against sin and infidelity are so concisely and powerfully urged, 
and the contrast between the nothingness of man's earthly aims and 
the immensity' of his immortal aspirations is so pointedly set before us, 
that the poem will always make deep impression on the religious reader. 
The prevailing defects of Young's mind were an irresistible tendency 
to antithesis and epigrammatic contrast, and a want of discrimination 
that often leaves him utterly unable to distinguish between an idea 
really just and striking, and one which is oxAy superficially so: and 
this want of taste frequently leads him into illustrations and compar- 
isons rather puerile than ingenious, as when he compares the stars to 
diamonds in a seal-ring upon the finger of the Almighty. He is also 
remarkable for a deficiency in continuous elevation, advancing, so to 
say, by jerks and starts of pathos and sublimity. The march of his 
verse is generally solemn and majestic, though it possesses little of the 
rolling, thunderous melody of Milton ; and Young is fond of introdu- 
cing familiar images and expressions, often with great effect, amid his 
most lofty bursts of declamation. The epigrammatic nature of some of his 
most striking images is best testified by the large number of expres- 
sions which have passed from his writings into the colloquial language 
of society, such as " procrastination is the thief of time," " all men 
think all men mortal but themselves," and a multitude of others. A 
sort of quaint solemnity, like the ornamentation upon a Gothic tomb, 
is the impression which the Night Thoughts are calculated to make 
upon the reader in the present time; and it is a strong proof of the 
essential greatness of his genius, that the quaintness is not able to 
extinguish the solemnity. 

§ 19. The poetry of the Scottish Lowlands found an adniii*able 



A. D. 16S6-1758.] ALLAN RAMSAY. 287 

representative at this time in Allan Ramsay (16S6-1758), born in a 
humble class of life, and who was first a wigmaker, and afterwards 
a bookseller in Edinburgh. He was of a happy, jovial, and contentet. 
humor, and rendered great services to the literature of his country bj 
reviving the taste for the excellent old Scottish poets, and by editing 
and imitating the incomparable songs and ballads current among the 
people. He was also the author of an original pastoral poem, the Gcn- 
tle (or Noble) Shepherd^ which grew out of two eclogues he had written, 
descriptive of the rural life and scenery of Scotland. The complete 
work appeared in 1725, and consists of a series of dialogues in verse, 
written in the melodious and picturesque dialect of the country, and 
interwoven into a simple but interesting love-story. The pictures of 
nature given in this charming work, equally faithful and ideal, the 
exact representation of real peasant life and sentiment, which Ramsay, 
with the true instinct of a poet, knew how to make strictly true to 
reality without a particle of vulgarity, and the light but firm delinea- 
tions of character, render this poem far superior in interest, however 
inferior in romantic ideality, to the Pastor Fido, the Galatea^ or the 
Faithful Shepherdess. The songs he has occasionally interspersed, 
though they may sometimes be out of place by retarding the march of 
the events, are often eminently beautiful, as are many of those scattered 
through Ramsay's voluminous collections, in which he combined the 
revival of older compositions with imitations and originals of his own. 
It is impossible to overrate the influence which Ramsay exerted in pro- 
liucing, in the following century, the unequalled \yr\z genius of his 
great successor, Burns. The treasures of tenderness, beautiful descrip- 
tion, and sly humor which Ramsay transmitted from Dunbar, James I., 
David Lyndsay, and a thousand nameless national bards, were concen- 
trated into one splendid focus in the writings of the author of a Tarn 
O Shunter. 



288 



NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. [Chap. XV. 



NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 



MINOR POETS. 

ElCHAED Savage (1G96-1743), so well known for 
Johnson's account of him, was the bastard child of 
Richard Savage, Earl Rivers, and the Countess of 
Macclesfield. He led a dissipated and erratic life, 
the victim of circumstances and of hLs own passions. 
In his miscellaneous poems the best are The Wan- 
derer and The Bastard. 

Sm RiOHAKU Blaokmoke (1658?-1729), a phy- 
sician in extensive practice, and knighted by Wil- 
liam III. wrote several epic poems, of which I'he 
Creation, published in 1712, has been admitted into 
the collections of the British Poets. Johnson re- 
marks, that " Blackmore, by the unremitted enmity 
of the wits, whom he provoked more by his virtue 
than his dulness, has been exposed to worse treat- 
ment than he deserved." And he adds, that " the 
poem on Creation wants ncitlier harmony of num- 
bers, accuracy of thought, nor elegance of diction." 

AMuaoSE Philips (1675-1749), educated at St. 
John's College, Cambridge, was a friend of Addison 
and Steele, but was violently attacked by Pope. He 
wrote three tragedies and some I'astorah, which 
were much admired at the time, but are now de- 
servedly forgotten. "The pieces of Philips that 
please best," observes Johnson, " are those which, 
from tope and Pope's adherents, procured him the 
name oi Naniby I'ambt/, the poems of short lines, by 
which he paid his court to all ages and characters, 
from Walpole, the ' steerer of the realm,' to Miss 
Pulteney in the nursery. The numbers are smooth 
and sprightly, and the diction is seldom faulty. 
They arc not mucli loaded with thought, yet, if 
they had been written by Addison, they would have 
had admirers." 

GEORciE Granville, Lord Lansdowne 
(16<i&-17;^), some of whose poems are included in 
the collection of the British Poets, a distinction to 
which they are hardly entitled. His early pieces 
were commended bj' old Waller, whose faults he 
imitated. Pope designates him as " Granville the 
polite." His verses to Mira are best known. 



Anne Countess of WiNonELSEA (d. 1720). 
The writings of this lady, with all the smoothness 
and elegance of the age, gave indications of the 
better days that were coming upon English poetry. 
Between t5e Paradise Lost and the Seasons, ]Mr. 
Wordsworth says that there is not a " single new 
image of external nature," except in the Windsor 
Forest of Pope and the Nocturnal Reverie of the 
poetess. She was the daughter of Sii- William 
Kingsmill, Southampton. 

Dk. Isaac Watts (1074-1748) was bom at South- 
ampton, July 17, 1074, and educated among the 
dissenters by the Rev. Thomas Rowe. In 1098 he 
became minister of the Independent congregation 
at Stoke Newington, where he labored, under de- 
clining health, until 1712, when he entered the house 
of Sir Thomas Abney of Abney Park, and continued 
the guest of tlie baronet, and afterwards of his 
widow, preaching occasionally, but chiefly devoting 
himself to study and literature until his death on the 
25th JSTovember, 1748. Dr. Watts's talents were of a 
high order, and his efiorts bore him over a most 
extended field of study. His style is easj' and 
graceful, and his poelie diction gives him a high 
place among the religious poets of England. His 
Psalms and Hi/inns, whilst full of imperfections, are 
yet acknowledged to contain some of the finest spe- 
cimens of praise in the English tongue, whilst his 
prose writings, embracing theological, philosophi- 
cal, and polemical works, have exercised an ex- 
tensive and wholesome influence, especially upon 
the more popular classes of the community. " It 
was therefore, with great propriety," said Dr. John- 
son, " that in 1728 he received from Edinburgh and 
Aberdeen an unsolicited diploma by which he be- 
came a Doctor of Divinity. Academical honors 
would have more value if they were always be- 
stowed with equal judgment." 

His chief works were — Logic, 1725, once used as 
a text book at Oxford. Astronomy and Geography, 
1726. Works for Young Children. Essays and 
theological writings. 



A. D. 1672-1719.] JOSEPH ADDISON, 289 

CHAPTER XVI. 

THE ESSAYISTS. 

} 1. Joseph Addison : his life. The Campaign. Travels in Italy. Rosamond. 
The Drummer. § 2. His connection with Steele : life of the latter. The 
Tatler, Spectator, and Guardian. ^ 3. Addison's Cato. Made Secretary of 
State. His death. His quarrel with Pope. His character. § 4. His contri- 
butions to the Tatler, Spectator, and Guardian. § 5. His poetry. § 6. Sir 
William Temple. § 7. Bishop Atterbuky. ^ 8. Lord Shaftesbury. 
His Characteristics. § 9. Lord Bolingbroke. His works. His connection 
with David Mallet. ^ 10. Bernard Mandeville. His Fable of the Bees. 
§ II. Bishop Berkeley. His Minute Philosopher and Theory of Vision. 
§ 12. Lady Mary Montagu. Her letters. Compared with those of Madame 
de Sevigne. 

§ 1. The class of writers who form the subject of this chapter are 
identified with the creation of a new and peculiar form of English liter- 
ature, which was destined to exert a powerful and most beneficial influ- 
ence on the manners and intellectual development of society. The 
m.ode of publication was periodical, and a kind of journals made their 
appearance, many of them enjoying an immense popularity, combining 
a small modicum of public news with a species of short essay or lively 
dissertation on some subject connected with morality or criticism, and 
inculcating principles of virtue in great, and good taste and politeness 
in small things. The Essay was first made popular by Montaigne, and 
the taste for this easy and desultory form of composition became gen- 
eral throughout Europe. It was in England that it was first combined 
with the principle of journalism. The first establishment of this species 
of publication is due to Sir Richard Steele, of whom we shall give 
some account presently. His most illustrious fellow-laborer in the task 
of disseminating among the higher and middle classes a better tone of 
manners and a taste for intellectual enjoyments was Joseph x\ddison 
(1672-1719). This great writer and excellent man was the son of 
Lancelot Addison, a divine of some reputation for learning, and was 
born in 1672. He was educated at the Charter-house, from whence he 
passed to Queen's and ultimately to Magdalen College, Oxford; and 
here he distinguished himself by the regularity of his conduct, the 
assiduity of his application, and his exquisite taste in Latin verse. 
Indeed his knowledge of the Roman literature, and especially of the 
poets, was accurate and profound. His graceful exercises in this elegant 
branch of letters, and in particular his poems on Punch and Judy (the 
Machince Gesticulantes) and on the Barometer, made him the hope and 
pride of his College. His first essays in English verse were a eulogistic 
poem on the King, which was honored with the high approval of 
Dryden ; and it was under Dryden's wing that Addison continued hi« 
35 



290 THE ESS A TISTS. [Chap. XVI. 

trial-flight, translating the IVth Georgia of Virgil. Lord Somers pro- 
cured for the rising neophyte a pension of 300/., which enabled him to 
travel in France and Italy, and he gave speedy proof hovv^ well he had 
profited by these opportunities of employing and extending his classi- 
cal and philosophical acquirements. During his sojourn in France he 
had an interview with the aged Boileau, then the patriarch of poetry 
and criticism, and the literary lawgiver not only to his own country 
but to England. The accession of King WilliaKi. deprived Addison of 
his pension ; and he passed some time in London very poor in purse, 
but exhibiting that dignified patience and quiet reserve which made his 
character so estimable. In his retirement he was found out by the 
Ministers, who being desirous that the recent triumphs of Marlborough 
should be celebrated in verse in a worthy manner, Godolphin was 
deputed to propose to him that he should write a poem oil the immor- 
tal campaign which had just terminated in the victory of Blenheim. 
Addison readily undertook the task; and the unfinished portion, con- 
taining the once celebrated comparison of the great leader to the 
Destroying Angel, being shown to the INIinisters, they were in raptures; 
and the work, when it appeared, under the title of The Campaign, was 
universally pronounced superior not only to Boileau, but to anything 
that had hitherto been written in the same style. The verses appear to 
modern readers stiff and artificial enough ; but Addison deserves credit 
for having been the first to abandon the absurd custom of former poets, 
who praise a military hero for mere personal courage, and paint him 
slaughtering whole squadrons with his single arm, and to place the 
glory of a great general on its true basis — power of conceiving and 
executing profound intellectual combinations, and calmness and imper- 
turbable foresight in the hour of danger. Literary services were at 
that time often rewarded with political advancement, and from this 
moment the career of Addison was a brilliant and successful one. He 
was appointed Under-Secretary of State, and Chief Secretary for Ire- 
land, besides which high posts he at different times received various 
other places, both lucrative and honorable. The publication of the 
Cajnpaign had been followed by that of his Travels in Italy, exhibiting 
proofs not only of Addison's graceful and accomplished scholarship, but 
also of that quiet yet delicate humor, that humane and benevolent 
morality, and that deep though not bigoted religious spirit, which so 
strongly mark his character and his writings. In 1707 he gave to the 
world his pleasing and graceful opera or musical entertainment entitled 
Rosamond ; and about this time he in all probability sketched out the 
comedy of the Drununer, which, however, was not published till after 
his death, when it was brought out by his friend Steele, who is said to 
have had some share in its composition. It is deficient in plot and 
vivacity of interest; but many of the scenes exhibit much comic power, 
and the character of Vellum, the old steward, is in particular extremely 
amusing. 

§ 2. It was about this period of his career that Addison embarked in 
that literary venture first launched by his friend Steele, and with his 



Ar D. 1672-1719.] JOSEPH ADDISON. 291 

share in which is connected the most durable element of his fame ; and 
I shall introduce here, incidentally, a short account of Steele himself. 
Sir Richard Steele (1675-1729) was of Irish origin, but had been 
the schoolfellow of Addison, upon whom, both at the Charter-house 
and afterwards during his short stay at Oxford, he seems to have looked 
with a curious and most affecting mixture of veneration and love. His 
life was full of the wildest vicissitudes, and his character was one of 
those which it is equally impossible to hate and to respect. His heart 
was inordinately tender, his benevolence deep, and his aspirations 
lofty; but his passions were strong, and he had so much of the Irish 
impressionableness that his life was passed in sinning and repenting, in 
getting into scrapes and making projects of reformation which a total 
want of prudence and self-control prevented him from executing. Pas- 
sionately fond of pleasure, and always ready to sacrifice his own 
interest for the whim of the moment, he caused himself to be disin- 
herited for enlisting in the Horse-Guards as a private; and when after- 
wards promoted to a commission, astonished the town by his wild 
extravagance, in the midst of which he wrote a moral and religious 
treatise entitled the Christian Hero, breathing the loftiest sentiments 
of piety and virtue. He was a man of ready though not solid talents ; 
and being an ardent partisan pamphleteer, was rewarded by Govern- 
ment with the place of Gazetteer, which gave him a sort of monopoly 
of official news at a time when newspapers were still in their infancy. 
He determined to profit by the facilities this post afforded him, and to 
found a new species of periodical which should combine ordinary intel- 
ligence with a series of light and agreeable essays upon topics of 
universal interest, likely to improve the taste, the manners, and morals 
of society. It should be remarked that this was a period when literary 
taste was at its lowest ebb among the middle and fashionable classes 
of England. The amusements, when not merely frivolous, were either 
immoral or brutal. Gambling, even among women, was frightfully 
prevalent; and the sports of the men were marked with a general 
stamp of crueltjs and of an indulgence in drunkenness which I will 
venture to call — for I know no more appropriate word — blackguard- 
ly. In such a state of things intellectual pleasures and acquirements 
were regarded either with wonder or contempt. The fops and fine 
ladies actually prided themselves on their ignorance of spelling, and 
any allusion to books was scouted as pedantry. Such was the disease 
which Steele desired to cure, and he determined to treat it, not with 
formal doses of moral declamation, but with homoeopathic quantities of 
good sense, good taste, and pleasing morality, disguised under an easy 
and fashionable style. In 1709 he founded the Tatler, a small sheet 
which appeared thrice a week at the cost of id., each number contain- 
ing a short essay, generally extending to about a couple of octavo 
pages, and the rest filled up with news and advertisements. The popu- 
larity of this new kind of journal was instant and immense; no tea- 
table, no coffee-house — in that age of coffee-houses — was without it; 
and the authors writing with the ease, pleasantry, and knowledge of 



292 THE ESSA YISTS. [Chap. XVL 

life, rather of men of the world and men about town, than mere literarj' 
recluses, soon gained the attention of the class they addressed. The 
Tatler continued about a year, when it was remodelled into the far 
more celebrated and successful Spectator. This was carried on upon 
the same plan, with the difference that it appeared every day; and after 
reaching five hundred and fifty-five numbers was discontinued for a 
short time, after which it was resumed in 1714, and extended to about 
eighty numbers more. A third journal, the Giiardiaft, was commenced 
in 1712, and reached one hundred and seventy-five numbers, but was 
strikingly inferior to the Spectator both in talent and success. Though 
master of a singularly ready and pleasant pen, Steele was of course 
obliged to obtain as much assistance as he could from his friends ; and 
many writers of the time furnished hints or contributions — Swift, 
Berkeley, Budgell, and others. But the most constant and powerful 
aid was supplied by Addison, who entered warmly into the project; 
and even while absent in Ireland contributed a very considerable 
and certainly the most valuable proportion of papers, amounting in the 
Tatler to about one sixth, in the Spectator to more than one half, and 
in the Guardian to one third of the whole quantity of matter. Addi- 
son's contributions to the Spectator are generally signed with one of 
the letters composing the word Clio. After dissipating more than one 
fortune, and committing all kinds of extravagant follies, poor Steele, 
who had thrown himself with his usual headlong zeal into politics, died 
in great poverty at Carmarthen in Wales, in 1729. 

§ 3. In 1713 Addison brought out his tragedy of Cato^ which, partly 
from the eminence of its author, partly from the avidity with which the 
political allusions were caught up and applied hy furious parties, and 
in some degree, also, it is but fair to add, from the stately dignity of the 
declamation, enjoyed an enormous popularity. It is a solemn, cold, 
and pompous series of tirades in the French taste, and is written in 
scrupulous adherence to the severest rules of the imaginary classical 
unities ; but the intrigue is totally devoid either of interest or proba- 
bilitj^, and the characters, including Cato himself, are mere frigid em- 
bodiments of patriotic and virtuous rhetoric. The declamation, how- 
ever, is in parts dignified and noble ; and the famous soliloquy on suicide, 
pronounced by the hero, is a passage of much merit, though by no 
means merit of a dramatic nature. In 1716 Addison married the 
Dowager Countess of Warwick, to whose son he had in former daj's 
been tutor; but this union does not seem to have added much to his 
happiness. The lady was of a haughtj' and irritable character; and 
Addison probably enjoyed far more of that friendly and lettered ease 
which he so prized, when a poor adventurer haunting the coffee-houses, 
than when residing under the fantastic roofs of Holland House, to 
which historic abode he has bequeathed the glory of his presence. 
Neither in the House of Commons, of which he was for some time a 
member, nor in Government offices where he performed important 
duties, was Addison distinguished for eloquence or ready business 
talents, though there is no reason to believe the common anecdotes 



A. D. 1672-1719.] JOSEPH ADDISON: 293 

which make him incapable of writing an ordinary official paper ; but 
his invincible timidity prevented him from speaking, if ever, at least 
frequently or with effect ; and his powers of conversation, which were ex- 
traordinary, are said to have quite -deserted him in the presence of more 
than one or two hearers ; and it was necessary, too, that they should be 
intimate friends, with whom he felt himself perfectly at ease. To con- 
quer his natural diffidence, and to give flow and vivacity to his ideas, Ad- 
dison is said, both for conversation and composition, to have had recourse 
to wine; and this is almost the only defect with which his otherwise 
almost perfect character can be reproached. In making the accusation 
we must not forget that excessive drinking was rather the fashion than 
regarded as the vice of the age in England. 

In 1717 Addison reached the highest point of his political career: he 
was made Secretary of State, and in this eminent position he exhibited 
the same liberality, modesty, and genuine public spirit that had char- 
acterized his whole life. Nothing is more honorable to him than that, 
in an age when political struggles were carried on with the most 
unscrupulous perfidy and intolerant violence, he should never have 
been induced, either by interest or cowardice, to desert his friends who 
might be ranged under opposing banners ; and in his controversies, 
which he actively carried on principally in the journals entitled the 
Freeholder and the Examiner^ he never departed from a tone of can- 
dor, moderation, and good breeding, which he was almost the first to 
introduce into political discussion. Of this noble feature in his char- 
acter, his fidelity to his old personal friendship with Swift, in spite of the 
latter's apostasy and defeat, is a striking example. He did not retain 
his post of Secretary of State for a long period : he soon retired, with 
a handsome pension of 1500/. a year, and determined to devote the 
evening of his days to the composition of an elaborate work on the 
evidences of the Christian religion. In this task he was interrupted by 
death, which cut short his career in 1719. One of the most interesting 
literary events in his life i» his quarrel, or rather , misunderstanding, 
with Pope. The latter, who was of a singularly malignant and insin- 
cere nature, suspected Addison of being jealous of his fame, and of 
employing, under the mask of friendship, disingenuous arts to depre- 
ciate his works. He particularly made use of a natural source of mis- 
understanding, really arising out of Addison's extreme delicacy, to 
accuse him of unfair conduct respecting his translation of the Iliad, of 
which Addison's friend Tickell had also translated a portion, and taken 
his advice respecting it : moreover he alleged that Addison, in dissuad- 
ing any alteration in the first sketch of the Rape of the Loch, had been 
actuated by unworthy motives of envy and jealousy. But whoever 
knows the characters of the two persons must feel convinced that the 
whole tenor of Addison's life and conduct was such as to rebut these 
accusations, while the details of Pope's career are irresistible arguments 
in favor of his meanness, his irritable vanity, and his irrepressible spirit 
of intrigue. His enmity to Addison, however, produced one of tht 
finest and most finished passages of his works, the unequalled lines 

25* 



294 THE ESSAYISTS. [Chap. XVI. 

drawing the character of Atticus, and unquestionably meant for Addi- 
son. Of all the accusations so brilliantly launched against him, 
Addison might plead guilty to none save the very venial one of loving 
to surround himself with an obsequious circle of literary admirers : 
but all the blacker portions of the portrait are traceable to the pure 
malignity of the venomous but sparkling satirist. The character of 
Addison seems to have approached, as near as the frailties and imper- 
fections of our nature will allow, to the ideal of a perfectly good man. 
In him indulgence in detail did not exclude severity of principle, and 
tolerance and fervor were united in his religious sentiments. Every- 
body knows the story of his sending for the young Earl of Warwick, 
his foi-mer pupil, when on his death-bed, and telling him that he had 
asked his presence that he might see how a Christian can die. The scene 
must have made a deep impression, even upon that wild and worthless 
reprobate, who was the scandal of his time for his profligate adventures. 
§ 4. Of the works of this admirable man and excellent writer, it is 
the prose portion which gives him the right to the very high place he 
holds in the English Literature of the eighteenth century; and among 
the prose works, almost exclusively those Essays which he contributed 
to the Tatler, Spectator, and Guardian. The immense fertility of 
invention displayed in these charming papers, the variety of their sub- 
jects, and the singular felicity of their treatment, will ever place them 
among the masterpieces of fiction and of criticism. The va4riety of 
them is indeed extraordinary; and though we know that the primary 
hints for some of them may have been given by Swift, yet enough, and 
more than enough, remains to testify to the richness and inventiveness 
of Addison's own genius. These papers are of all kinds : sometimes 
we have an apologue like the Vision of Mirza, sometimes the Trans- 
migrations of the Monkey, or the judgment of women in Hades ; at 
other times we have calm and yet fervent religious musings on the 
starry heavens or in Westminster Abbey; then a playful mock criti- 
cism, or a description of Mr. Penkethman, the Puppet-show, or the 
Opera; then a noble appreciation of the half-neglected grandeur of 
Milton, or the rude, energetic splendor of the old ballad of Chevy 
Chase. Nothing is too high, nothing too low, to furnish matter for 
amusing and yet profitable reflection : from the patched and cherry- 
colored ribbons of the ladies, to the loftiest principles of morality and 
religion, everything is treated with appropriate yet unforced apposite- 
ness. Addison was long held up as the finest model of elegant yet 
idiomatic English prose ; and even now, when a more livelj^ vigorous, 
and colored style has supplanted the neat and somewhat prim correct- 
ness of the eighteenth century, the student will find in Addison some 
qualities that never can become obsolete — a never-failing clearness and 
limpidity of expression, and a singular appropriateness between the 
language and the thought. . Like the Pyrrha of Horace, the style of 
this author is simplex munditiis. The age of the Tatler, Spectator, 
and Guardian was the age of clubs in England ; and Steele, in order 



A. D. 1672-17 19.] JOSEPH ADDIS OK 295 

to give vivacity and individuality to Lis journals, supposed that they 
were edited by some imaginary person, the philosophic spectator of 
the gaj^eties and follies of society, some Isaac Bickcrstaff, or some short- 
faced gentleman. None of these are of much felicity, except the inven- 
tion of the Club in the Spectator, consisting of representatives of the 
chief classes of town and rural societj'. Thus we have Sir Andrew 
Freeport as the type of the merchants. Captain Sentrj'- of the soldiers, 
Sir Roger de Coverley of the old-fashioned country-gentlemen, and 
Will Honeycomb of the men of fashion and pleasure : while linking 
them all together is Mr. Spectator himself, the short-faced gentleman, 
who looks with a somewhat satirical ycX good-humored interest- on all 
that he sees going on around him. In the conception and impersona- 
tion of these characters, which were in all probability first thought of 
by Steele, there is nothing very happy or very extraordinary, with the 
exception of the inimitable personage of Sir Roger de Coverley, and 
the adventures and surroundings of the Worthy old knight. It is a 
perfect, finished picture, worthy of Cervantes or of Walter Scott; and 
the manner in which the foibles and the virtues of the old squire 
are combined is a proof that Addison possessed humor in its highest 
and most delicate perfection. The account of Sir Roger's visit to Lon- 
don, of his conduct at the Club, of his expedition by water to West- 
minster Abbey, of his remarks on the statues and curiosities he sees 
there, is the perfection of tender, delicate, loving humor; and Mr. 
Spectator's description of his visit to the old provincial magnate in his 
Gothic Hall, his exhibition of his picture-gallery, his behavior at church 
and upon the bench of the quorum, his long-standing amour with the 
widow, and the inimitable sketches of his dependants, the chaplain, 
the butler, and Will Wimble, the poor relation, — all these traits of 
character and delicate observation of nature must ever place Addison 
very high among the great painters of human nature. 

§ 5. Addison's poetry, though rated very high in his own time, has 
since fallen in public estimation to a point very far below that occupied 
'Xiy his prose. His Latin productions are remarkable for their elegance 
and a classic purity of turn and diction, and they show very great 
address in that difficult department in the art of the modern imitator of 
ancient verse, the rendering in graceful and idiomatic Latinity ideas 
and objects purely modern. Nevertheless, Addison's Latin poetry, like 
that of all moderns, labors under the fatal defect of being, after all, but 
a skilful cento, and an artificial reproduction of thought in a language 
which was not the real language of the writer. The songs in Rosamond 
are very pleasing and musical; and, had Addison continued to write in 
that manner, he would undoubtedly have left something which rival 
authors would have found it very difiicult to surpass. Perhaps the por- 
tion of his poetical works which is destined to survive longest the 
dangers of complete oblivion is his Hytnns, which not only breathe ^ 
fervent and tender spirit of piety, but are in their diction and versifica 
tion stamped with great beauty and refinement: the verses beginning. 



296 TEE ESSAYISTS, [Chap. XVI. 

" When all Thy mercies, O my God," and the M^ell-known adaptation 
of the noble psalm, "The Heavens declare the Glory of God," derive, 
at least, as much of their effect from the sincere M^orship of a devout 
mind, of which they are the eloquent outpourings, as they do from any 
merely literary merits, though the latter are far superior to what is 
found in the general run of religious verse. The earlier and more 
ambitious poems of Addison, even including the once-lauded Cajn- 
patg-n, have little to distinguish them from the vast mass of regular, 
frigid, irreproachable composition which was poured forth under the 
influence of Pope and the Classical school, when a certain refined 
mediocrity could be attained by a practice little better than mechanical, 
and when, of course, such mechanical address was fatal to the existence 
of any vigorous or original creation. 

§ 6. The name of Sir William Temple (1628-169S) has already 
occurred in connection with the early life of Swift, who was for some 
time his dependant. He played an important part in the political and 
diplomatic history of the reigns of Charles II. and William III., and in 
particular negotiated with the great and good De Witt the treaty of 
alliance by wiiich England, Holland, and Sweden opposed a barrier to 
the encroaching ambition of France. In middle life he retired from 
that active political life for which his timidity and selfishness, as well 
as his self-indulgent habits and weak health, unfitted him during a 
stormy and factious period, and amused himself, in his villa at Sheen, 
and afterwards at his lovely retreat of Moor Park, in Surrey, with 
gardening and elegant and somewhat dilettante literary pursuits. He 
produced a number of easy and graceful though superficial Essays, 
which were extravagantly lauded at a time when the rank of a writer 
much increased the public admiration of his works ; but which are now 
read with interest principally on account of their easy good sense, their 
pleasing reflections on nature, and the agreeable and gentlemanly style 
in which they are written. He took part in the famous controversy 
suggested by the publication of the spurious Letters of Pkalaris, but 
which had its origin in a discussion respecting the relative superiority 
of the Ancients or the Moderns ; and he was treated by Bentley, not, 
indeed, with contempt, but with less respect than his contemporaries 
were in the habit of paying to the statesman and ambassador who con- 
descended to enter the arena of literature. His writings upon this 
subject exhibit a degree of childish ignorance and presumption that 
would have warranted much more severe treatment at the hands of 
the great scholar, whose profound and accurate knowledge settled the 
question which his wit and pleasantry had so much enlivened.* 

§ 7. No name, among the brilliant circle which surrounded Pope 
and Swift, is more remarkable than that of Bishop Atterbury (1662- 
1732). A Tory and Jacobite of the extreme Oxford type, he played a 
prominent part, both on the political and literary scene. He was 

* For a full account of thi* cpntroversy, see Notes and Illuf^trations (B) at the 
tnd of this chapter. 



A. D. 1671-1713-] LORD SHAFTESBURY. 297 

a man of great intellectual activity, of considerable though by no means 
profound learning, and of a violent, imperious, and restless temper. 
He took an active part in the controversy between Boyle and Bentlej-, 
and was for a time considered, by the people of fashion who knew 
nothing of the subject, to have completely demolished the dull, ill-bred 
Cambridge pedant. He was the principal author of the reply written 
in the name of Boyle, whose tutor he had been at Christ-Church. Of 
this great and illustrious college Atterbury was foi *ome time dean ; 
but his violent and overbearing spirit, as well as his extravagant Tory 
opinions, soon excited general confusion and dispute. He was in 1713 
raised to the see of Rochester, and became conspicuous not onlj' as a 
controversialist, but for the force and eloquence of his speeches in Par- 
liament. Though he had solemnly sworn to conform to the Protestant 
and Hanoverian dynasty upon which the throne was now settled, he 
began, in disgust at the coldness and suspicion with which the Court 
regarded him, to engage in that secret and treasonable correspondence 
with the party of the exiled Stuarts, that ultimately caused his well- 
merited fall. He had been known as an ardent favorer of the project 
for reinstating the Pretender at the death of Queen Anne, and in 1722 
he was openly impeached by Parliament, convicted of treasonable 
practices, committed to the Tower, deprived of his bishopric, and con- 
demned to exile. He resided first at Brussels, afterwards at Paris, and 
ultimately at Montpellier, and continued to show his attachment to the 
hopeless cause of the exiled family, though he refused an invitation to 
Rome, where the Pretender was residing. His conduct throughout 
appears to have been disingenuous, if not treacherous, in the highest 
degree. The private and personal side of Atterbury's character is far 
more attractive and respectable than his public conduct. His friendship 
for Pope was tender and sincere, and he was not only the great poet's 
most affectionate companion, but guided him with wise and valuable 
literary counsel. His fondness, too, for his daughter is a redeeming 
trait in his feverish and unhappy life; and there are few stories more 
pathetic than her hasty journey, to receive her father's blessing, tc 
take the sacrament from his hand, and to die in his embrace. His taste 
in literature appears to have been sound, and the intense admiration he 
always showed for the genius of Milton is the more honorable to his 
judgment, as his extreme Tory opinions must have made it difficult for 
him to sympathize with the Puritan and Republican poet. 

§ 8. Lord Shaftesbury (1671-1713), grandson of the famous chan- 
cellor, who was the friend and patron of Locke, himself enjoyed the 
tuition of that great and excellent man. His political and private con- 
duct affords a striking contrast to the factiousness and profligacy of the 
chancellor; and his literary reputation, though now become compara- 
tively obscure, stood very high both as a moralist and metaphysician, 
and also as an elegant and classical model of English prose. His col- 
lected works bear the title of Characteristics, and may still be read 
with interest. Shaftesbury's 'otyle is refined and regular, though some- 



298 THE ESSAYISTS, [Chap. XVL 

what ambitious and finical ; but he sometimes, as in his dialogue entitled 
the Moralists, rises to a lofty height of limpid eloquence, reminding 
the reader of the Platonic manner. His delineations of characters 
show much acuteness and observation, and have obtained for him the 
honor of comparison with La Bruyere, to whose neat antithetical mode 
of portrait-painting the thoughts and language of Shaftesbury bear 
no inconsiderable resemblance. As a writer on ethics he is remarkable 
for having strongly insisted on the existence in human nature of a 
distinct moral sense, enabling us to distinguish almost instinctively 
between good and evil actions. He is indeed by some considered the 
discoverer of this principle, antagonistic to those reasoners who main- 
tain that the difference between virtue and vice is only relative and 
experimental. 

§ 9. Henry St. John, Viscount Bolingbroke (1678-1751), presents 
a strong contrast to the last-mentioned writer. His career as a states- 
man and orator was meteoric, and he astonished his age with the 
splendor and versatility of his talents. In early life he was notorious 
for his dissipation ; but, addicting himself to politics, he became cele- 
brated for his eloquence as a speaker and his vivacity as a party-writer. 
He was a member of the brilliant coterie of Pope and Swift, and was 
joined in the administration with Harley. The collision between his 
ardent and flighty character and the slow and plodding nature of his 
colleague produced a rupture which all the efforts of Swift could not 
heal ; and on the death of Queen Anne, Bolingbroke, who had engaged 
in treasonable correspondence with the Court of St. Germains, was 
obliged to go into exile to escape the dangers of a formal impeachment. 
He had rendered himself odious to the nation by his share in the un- 
popular Treaty of Utrecht. In France he actually entered the service 
of the Pretender, but was soon dismissed through intrigue, and on 
receiving a pardon in 1723 returned to England, when he again made 
himself conspicuous for the virulence with which he opposed Walpole. 
He again retired to France for some time, and amused the declining 
years of life in the composition of many political, moral, and philo- 
sophical essays. One of these, the Idea of a Patriot King, he gave in 
MS. to Pope, and affected great anger when he discovered, after the 
poet's death, that the latter h£|ji caused a large impression to be printed, 
contrary to a solemn promise. Of his other works, his Letter to Sir 
William Windham in defence of his political conduct, and his Letters 
on the Study and Use of History, are the most important. The lan- 
guage of Bolingbroke is lofty and oratorical, but the tone of philo- 
sophical indifference to the usual objects of ambition generally strikes 
the reader as artificial and affected. It was to BolingbYbke that Pope 
addressed and dedicated the Essay oji Man, and some of the not very or- 
thodox positions maintained in that poem were borrowed from his bril- 
liant writings, the poet being too unfamiliar with such speculations to be 
always able to distinguish the results to which they logically led ; and 
Pope was indebted to the vigorous sophistry of Warburton, by which 



I 



A. D. 1670-1753.] MANDEVILLE. BERKELEY. 299 

thej were, in appearance at least, reconciled with orthodoxy. Boling- 
broke's writings against revealed religion were bequeathed by him to 
his friend David Mallet, the publisher and an unbeliever, who brought 
them out, together with Bolingbroke's other works, in 1754. Mallet, 
who died in 1765, was himself an author, but is now chiefly known by 
his Ballads, of which William and Margaret is the most striking and 
beautiful. It was to Mallet's house that Gibbon was taken by his 
father, when he had embraced Catholicism at Oxford, with the view of 
weaning him from his new faith. 

§ 10. A similarly irreligious tendency is objected to the essays of 
Bernard Mandeville (1670-1733), a physician and voluminous 
writer, remarkable for the boldness of his theories and the vivacity 
with which he supported them. The most celebrated of his productions 
is the Fable of the Bees, in which he endeavors to prove that private 
vices may be public benefits, or, in other words, that the play of human 
passions and propensities, hc^vever immoral or flagitious some of them 
may be in the relations between inan and man, works unconsciously 
and harmoniously towards the welfare of that complex body which we 
call society. In this theory there is undoubtedly much that is true, for 
the limits between virtue and vice are so fluctuating, when viewed in a 
general or social point of view, that the suppression of what is beyond 
the middle line on the one side would be as fatal to the existence of 
society, nay, of humanity itself, as the annihilation of what is beyond it 
on the other. Society vv^ould be as inconceivable without the existence 
of. vice, as it would be impossible withovit the existence of virtue. 

§ 11. The chief opponent of Mandeville was the accomplished and 
almost ideally virtuous Bishop Berkeley (16S4-1753), equally fanious 
for the evangelic benevolence of his character and the acuteness of his 
genius. His mind was ever full of projects for increasing the virtue 
and happiness of his fellow-creatures; and the Utopian character of 
some of these plans only proves the intensity of his philanthropic 
humanit3% One of them was the establishment of a sort of missionary 
college in the Bermudas, for the purpose of converting and civilizing 
the Carib savages. He was made Bishop of Clovne in Ireland, and 
presents one of the rare instances of a prelate, out of pure love for his 
flock and an unaflected contentment with Jiis lot, obstinately refusing 
any further promotion. His writings are exceedingly numerous, and 
embrace a wide field of moral and metaphysical discussion. He is one 
of the most brilliant, as well as one of the earliest maintainers of the 
extreme spiritualistic theory, and thus in some degree an opponent of 
Locke. His celebrated argument that we have no more grounds for 
doubting the existence of spirit than we have for denying the existence 
of matter has been perverted or exaggerated by people who talk 
loosely into a supposition that he argued against the existence of mat- 
ter altogether. The truth is, that in investigating the very obscure and 
arduous question of the nature of that evidence vipon which we base 
our convictions of material objects external to and independent of our- 



800 THE ESS A YISTS. [Chap. XVI. 

selves, he has shown to how much abuse that conviction is liable when 
once we apply the evidence to the establishment of a metaphysical 
proof. Berkeley frequently wrote in the form of dialogue, which in- 
deed, as the great examples of Plato and Cicero prove, is well adapted 
to the purpose of philosophical discussion : and one of the most char- 
acteristic and popular of his works is entitled The Minute Philosopher. 
In the connection between the physical and metaphysical branches of 
investigation, Berkeley's writings occupy an important place : thus his 
Theory of Vision established several valuable facts, and drew conclu- 
sions from several striking phenomena, concerning that subtle subject. 
In all his arguments his aim was to refute the materialist theoricians ; 
but in his eagerness to do this he has sometimes invokintarily struck 
at the very root of those notions which are indispensable to all rea- 
soning, as when he describes ideas as something foreign to or indepen- 
dent of the mind ; whereas the only conceivable mode of accounting 
for the existence of ideas is to suppose that they are states or modi- 
fications of the mind, or rather impressions, more or less permanent, 
made upon the thinking faculty itself. 

§ 12. The last author whom I shall mention in the present chapter 
is Lady INIary Montagu (1690-1762), the most brilliant letter-writer 
of this period, when Pope and many other distinguished men of letters 
assiduously cultivated the epistolary form of composition. She was 
the daughter of the Duke of Kingston, and celebrated, even from her 
childhood, as Lady Mary Pierrepont, for the vivacity of her intellect, 
her precocious intellectual acquirements, and the beauty and graces of 
her person. Her education had been far more extensive and solid than 
was then usually given to women : her acquaintance with history, and 
even with Latin, was considerable, and her studies had been in some 
degree directed by Bishop Burnet. She was, even as a clever and beau- 
tiful child, the pet and darling of the accomplished Whig society of the 
day, and she has recorded the intense delight she felt at the admiration 
of the members of the Kit-cat Club, by whom she was elected a toast. 
In 1712 she married Mr. Edward Wortley Montagu, a grave and satur- 
nine diplomatist, with whose character the sprightly and airy woman of 
fashion and literature could have had nothing in common. She ac- 
companied her husband on his embassy to the court of Constantinople, 
and described her travels over Europe and the East in those delightful 
Letters which have given her in English literature a place resembling" 
that of Madame de Sevigne in the literature of France. Lady Mary 
was the first traveller who gave a familiar, picturesque, and animated 
account of Oriental society, particularly of the internal life and man- 
ners of the Seraglio, to which her sex and her high position gave her 
unusual facilities of access. She returned from her travels in 1718, and 
separating, with mutual consent, from her husband, again went abroad, 
and resided in Italy till his death : this portion of her life embraced a 
period from 1739 ^^ 1761. She then returned to her native country, 
where she died in the following year. Her family life, not only with 



A. D. 1690-1762.] LADY MARY MONTAGU. 801 

relation to her husband, but still more so with regard to her only son, 
was uncomfortable and unhappy. The latter was a man whose talents 
were considerable, but whose vices and eccentricities were such as to 
justify the supposition of madness, and his career was one of the most 
extraordinary adventure and singularity. Lady Mary, however, was 
of a cold and unimpressionable nature, and seems to have borne her 
private misfortunes with philosophical equanimity. She was perhaps 
in some degree indemnified for the pain her son's conduct gave her, by 
the affection of her daughter, for whom she probably felt as much ten- 
derness as she had to bestow, and to whom some of her liveliest and 
most amusing letters are addressed. Admirable common sense, obser- 
vation, vivacity, extensive reading without a trace of pedantry, and a 
pleasant tinge of half-playful sarcasm, are the qualities which distin- 
guish her correspondence. The style is perfection : the simplicity and 
natural elegance of the high-born and high-bred lady combined with 
the ease of the thorough woman of the world. The moral tone, indeed, 
is far from being high, for neither the character nor the career of Lady 
Mary had been such as to cherish a very scrupulous delicacy. But she 
had seen so much, and had been brought into contact with so many 
remarkable persons, and in a way that gave her unusual means of 
judging of them, that she is always sensible and amusing. I have 
compared her to Madame de Sevignc, but the differences between the 
two charming writers are no less striking than the resemblances. In 
Lady Mary there is no trace of that intense and even morbid maternal 
affection which breathes through every line of the letters addressed to 
Madame de Grignan ; nor is there any of that fetish-like worship of the 
court which seems to pervade everything written in the chilling and 
tinsel atmosphere that surrounded Louis XIV. In wit, animation, and 
the power of hitting off, by a few felicitous touches, a character or a 
scene, it is difficult to assign the palm of superiority. Lady Mary was 
unquestionably a woman of far higher intellectual calibre, and of a 
much wider literary development. She can reason and draw inferences 
where Madame de Sevigne can only gossip, though it must be allowed 
that her gossip is the most delicious in the world. The successful 
introduction of inoculation for the smallpox is mainly to be attributed 
to the intelligence and courage of Lady Mai-y Montagu, who not only 
had the courage to try the experiment upon her own child, but with 
admirable constancy resisted the furious opposition of bigotry and 
ignorance against the bold innovation. She was at one time the inti- 
mate friend of Pope, and the object of his most ardent adulation ; but 
a violent quarrel occurred between them, supposed to have originated 
in a rather warm outburst of admiration on the part of the poet, 
received by the great lady, as might indeed have been expected when 
we consider Pope's personal peculiarities, with a contemptuous ridicule 
which transformed his admiration into the bitterest and most perse- 
vering malignity. She was the author of a small miscellaneous col- 
lec.ion of poems, exhibiting the ease, regularity, and fluency which 



302 



NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. [Chap. XVI. 



generally marked the lighter verses of that day, and also a rather lax 
and epicurean tone of philosophy, which is sometimes expressed with 
inimitable felicity. Nothing can more strongly mark the wide differ- 
ence between the social condition of England in the seventeenth and 
eighteenth centuries than a comparison between the tone and the topics 
of the admirable Memoirs of Lucy Hutchinson, and the gay, worldly, 
satirical letters of Lady Mary Montagu. Both the one and the other 
are types of the female character as modified by the respective influ- 
er.ces of the two so strongly-contrasted epochs. 



NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 



A.— MINOR ESSAYISTS, &C. 

Eustace BudGELL (1685-1736), a friend of Ad- 
dison, who obtained for him many important posts 
under Government. He contributed to the Specta- 
tor all the papers marked with the letter X. Hav- 
ing lost almost his wliole fortune iu the South Sea 
scheme, and large sums of money in unsuccessful 
attempts to obtain a seat iu Parliament, he became 
a ruined man. He was accused of having forged in 
his favor Tiudal's Will, a charge to which Pope 
alludes in the lines, — 
" Let Budgell charge low Gmb Street on my quill, 

And write whate'er he please — except my will." 
Budgell was supposed to have assisted Tindal in his 
infidel works. His circumstances having become 
desperate, Budgell committed suicide, by leaping 
from a boat into the Thames. In liis house was 
found a slip of paper, on wliicli he had written — 
" What Cato did, and Addison approved, 
Cannot be wrong." 
Budgell published a weekly periodical called the 
Bee. 

John Hughes (1677-1720) tontribntcd some 
papers to the Spectator, Tatler, and Guardian. He 
also published some miscellaneous poems, a tragedy 
called the Siege of Damascus, several translations 
from the French, and an edition of Spenser's 
Works. 

Tom BRO-vra (d. 1704) and Tom D'Uefey (d. 
1723), two facetious but immoral writers, frequently 
mentioned in the lighter literature of the period. 
D'lJRFET \\T0te several plays of a licentious char- 
acter. In No. 67 of the Guardian Addison solicits 
his readers to attend a play for D'Urfey's benefit. 

B.— BOYLE AND BENTLEY CONTRO- 
VERSY. 
This celebrated controversy, which has been 
alluded to more than once in the preceding chap- 
ters, arose out of another upon the comparative 
merits of the ancient and modern writers. The dis- 
pute had its origin in France, where Fontenelle and 
Perrault claimed for the moderns a general supe- 
riority over the writers of antiquity. A reply to 



their arguments vras published by Sir William 
Temple in 1602, in his Esuaij on Ancient and Mod- 
ern Leai-ning, written in elegant language, but con- 
taining much puerile matter, and exhibiting great 
credulity. Not content with pointing out the un- 
doubted merits of the great wiiters of antiquity, he 
undervalued the labors and discoveries of the mod- 
ems, and passed over Shakspeare, Milton, and 
Newton without even mentioning their names. A 
far abler and an impartial estimate of the contro- 
versy was made by Wotton in his Reflections vj>on 
Ancient and Mode)-n Learning, published^ in 1604. 
William Wotton (1666-1726) had been a boy of 
astonishing precocity, and was admitted in his 
tenth year to Catherine Hall, Cambridge. When 
he took his degree, at the age of thirteen, he was 
acquainted with twelve languages. In his " Reflec- 
tions " he discusses the subject with great impar- 
tiality and learning; and, while assigning to the 
ancients their real merits, he points out the superi- 
ority of the moderns in physical science. 

Sir William Temple, in his Essay, among other 
arguments for the decay of humor, %vit, and learn- 
ing, had maintained " that the oldest books extant 
were still the best in their kind;" and in proof of 
this assertion had cited the Fables of ^sop and the 
Epistles of Phalaris. This led to the publication of 
a new edition of the Epistles of Phalaris by the 
scholars of Christ-Church, Oxford (1695). The 
nominal editor was Charles Boyle, brother of the 
Earl of Orrerj% who, in his Preface, inserted a bitter 
reflection upon RiOHAED Bentley (1662-1742). 
the King's Librarian, on account of the supposed 
refusal of the latter to grant him the loan of a jMS. 
in the King's Library. Bentley, who appears to 
have been unjustly blamed in this matter, soon had 
an opportunity of retaliation. In the second edition 
of Wotton's Reflections, published in 1697, Bentley 
added a dissertation, in the form of letters to his 
friend, in which he proved that the author of the 
Epistles of Phalaiis was not the Sicilian tyrant, but 
some sophist of a later age. Sir William Temple, 
who had been greatly annoyed at V/otton's Reflec- 
tions, was still more incensed at Bentley's Disserta^ 
tion; and Swift, who then resided in Temple'a 
house, made his first attack upon Beutley in th« 



Chap. XVI.] 



NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 



303 



Battle of the. Books, in which he ridiculed tlie great 
scholar in the most ludicrous manner; tliough the 
■work was not printed till some years after. 

At Oirist Church the indignation was, if possible, 
even greater. Bcntley's attack was considered an 
affront to the whole College, and it was resolved to 
crush, at once and forever, the audacious assailant. 
All the strength of Christ Church was enlisted in 
the contest; but the chief task of the reply was un- 
dertaken by Atterbury. He was assisted by George 
Smalridge, Robert Friend, afterwards head-master 
of Westminster School, his brother John Fri?nd, 
and Anthony ^Usop. " In point of classical learn- 
ing," observes the biographer of Bentlcy, " the joint- 
stock of the confederacy bore no proportion to that 
of Bentley ; their acquaintance with several of the 
books upon which they comment appears only to 
have begun upon that occasion, and sometimes they 
are indebted for their knowledge of them to their 
adversary ; compared with his boundless erudition, 
their learning was that of school-boys, and not 
always sufficient to preserve them from distressing 
mistakes. It may be doubtful whether Busby him- 
self, by whom every one of the confederate band had 
been educated, possessed knowledge which could 
have qualified him to enter the lists in such a con- 
troversy." But their deficiency in learning they 
made up by wit and raillery; and when the book 
appeared, in 1698, it was received with extravagant 
applause. It was entitled Dr. Bentleij's Disserta- 
tions on the Epistles of Phalaris and the Fables of 
.iEsop, examined by the Honorable Charles Boyle, 
Esq. It is usually known by the familiar title of 
Boijle against Bentley ; though Boyle, whose name 
it bears, had no share in the composition of the work. 
It was generallj' supposed that Bentley was silenced 
and crushed. "All accounts agree in stating the 
applause which the book met with to have been 
loud and universal ; and the general interest excited 
by this controversy, properly a business of dry 
learning, appears to us almost incredible. This 
state of public feeling is attributable in some degree 
to the vein of wit and satire which pervades the 
Christ Church performance, but still more to ex- 
traneous causes. The numbers and ability of the 
members of that distinguished society, who appear 
to have felt as one man in this common cause, had 
a powerful influence over public opinion. Again, 
the ejftreme popularity of Sir W. Temple, who was 
represented as rudely attacked, and the interest 
excited in behalf of Mr. Boyle, a young scholar of 
noble birth, who appeared in the field of controversy 
as the champion of an accomplished veteran, dis- 
posed people at all hidzards to favor his cause. 
Added to this, an opinion which had been indus- 
triously circulated of Bentley's incivility, and a cer- 
tain haughty carriage which undoubtedly belonged 
to him, gave a violent prejudice to the public mind. 
Severe and accurate erudition being rare in those 
days, people were so far deluded as to believe that 
on most, if not all points, Boyle was successful: we 
karn from Bentley himself, that the book was at 
Srst generally regarded as unanswerable ; and this 
even among his own friends. Nobody suspected 
that he would venture to reply ; still less that he 
could ever again hold up his head in the republic 
of learning : the blow was thought to be fatal ; and 
many persons, aa usual, eagerly joined the cry 



against the devoted critic." — (Monk's Life of Bent- 
ley, i. p. 108.) 

Among the many other attacks made upon Bent- 
ley at this period, the only one which continues to 
be known is Swift's Battle of the Bvoks, in which 
he pours forth upon Bentley all the embittered vehe- 
mence of his satire. 

In the midst of this outcry Bentley remained 
unmoved. Conscious of his own learning, he could 
afford to despise the ignorant malice of his enemies ; 
and he set himself resolutely to work to prepare an 
answer, which should not only silence his oppo- 
nents, but establish his reputation as one of the 
greatest scholars that ever lived. His work appeared 
in 1609, under the title of A Dissertation upon the 
Epistles of riialaris : with an Answer to the Objec- 
tions of the lion. Robert Boyle, by Richard Bent- 
ley, D. D.; but it is frequently called Bentley 
against Boyle. " The appearance of this work is to 
^e considered an epoch not only in the life of Bent- 
ley, but in the history of literature. The victory 
obtained over his opponents, although the most 
complete that can be imagined, constitutes but a 
small part of the merits of this performance. Such 
is the author's address, that, while every page is 
professedly controversial, there is embodied in the 
work a quantity of accurate information relative to 
history, chronology, antiquities, philology, and 
criticism, which it would be difficult to match in 
any other volume. The cavils of the Boyleans had 
fortunately touched upon so many topics, as to draw 
from their adversary a mass of learning, none of 
which is misplaced or superfluous: he contrives, 
with admirable judgment, to give the reader all the 
information which can be desired upon each ques- 
tion, while he never loses sight of his main object. 
Profound and various as arc the sources of his learn- 
ing, everything is so well arranged, and placed in 
so clear a view, that the student who is only in the 
elementary parts of classical literature may peruse 
the book with profit and pleasure, while the most 
learned reader cannot fail to find his knowledge 
enlarged. Nor is this merely the language of those 
who are partial to the author ; the eminently learned 
Dodwell, who had no peculiar motive to be pleased 
with a work by which he was himself a considerable 
sufferer, and who as a nonjuror was prejudiced 
against Bentley's part}', is recorded to have avowed 
• that he had never learned so much from any book 
in his life.' This learned volume owes much of its 
attraction to the strain of humor, which makes the 
perusal highly entertaining. The advocates of 
Phalaris, having chosen to rely upon wit and rail- 
lery, were now made to feel in their turn the con- 
sequences of the warfare which they had adopted. 
So well sustained is the learning, the wit, and the 
spirit of this production, that it is not possible to 
select particidar parts as objects of admiration, 
without committing a sort of injustice to the rest. 
And the book itself will long continue to be in the 
hands of all educated persons, as long as literature 
maintains its hold in society." — (Monk's Life of 
Bentley, i. pp. 120-123.) 

With this dissertation the controversy came to an 
end, for Bentley's reply was so complete and crush- 
ing that it was hopeless to attempt a rejoinder. Sir 
William Temple died a fev, veeks before the publi- 
cation of Bentley's work, a.nd was thus spared tha 



304 



NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. [Chap. XVI. 



mortification of witnessing tlie utter discomfiture of 
his friends. 

OTHER WRITERS. 

Sir Andrew FLDTcnER of Saltotin (1653- 
1716) was a member of Parliament in the reign of 
Charles II., and afterwards engaged in the various 
political events of the reigns of James IT., William 
and Mary, and Anne. His writings were chiefly in 
the form of political tracts. He is the author of the 
saying, " If a man were permitted to make all the 
ballads, be need not care who should make the laws 
of a nation." 

Mrs. Manlev (1724), in the reign of Anne, was 
a dramatist, novelist, and political writer, popular, 
but of no very good character as regards either her 
life or her writings. She was the author of Atalan- 
tis, a political satire of some force, published about 
170!). She conducted the Examiner for some time 



after it had been given up by Swift. She was tha 
daughter of Sir Roger Manley, governor of Guern- 
sey. 

John Strype (1643-1737), son of a refugee from 
Brabant, was brought up at Cambridge, and entered 
the Church. He was an extensive historian and 
biographer. He wrote lives of Cranmer, 1604, Onii' 
dal, 1710, Parker, 1711, and other archhishops; 
Annals of the I'eformation, 1709-31 ; and was editor 
of the " Survey of London," by Stow, besides other 
works of historical and antiquarian interest. He 
died at Hackney, aged 94. 

Laavrence Eciiard (1671-1730). An extensive 
compiler and careful annalist. His histories of 
England, Borne, the Church, &c., were valuable 
collections in their day. Several editions of tha 
Ecclesiastical History have been published. 

lie was educated at Cambridge, and becam* 
Archdeacon of Stowe and prebend of Lincoln. 



Chap. XVII.] TUIT GREAT NOVELISTS. 305 

CHAPTER XVII. 

THE GREAT NOVELISTS. 

$ 1. History of Prose Fiction. The Romance and the Novel. § 2. Daniel 
Defoe. His life and political career. § 3. Robinson Crusoe. § 4. Defoe's 
other works. § 5. Samuel Richardson. Pamela, Clarissa Harlowe, and 
Sir Charles Grandison. § 6. Henry Fielding. His life and publications. 
§ 7. Characteristics of his writings. Joseph Andreios, Jonathan Wild, Totn 
Jones, and Amelia. § 8. Tobias Smollett. His life and publications. 
§9. Characteristics of his novels. Compared with Fielding. §10. Laavrencb 
Sterne. Tristram Sha^rdy and the Sentimental Journey. $ 11. Oliver 
Goldsmith. His life and publications. § 12. Criticism of his works. The 
Traveller and The Deserted Village. The Vicar of Wakefield. The Good 
Natiired Man and She Stoops to Conquer. 

§ 1. Most departments of literature were cultivated earlier in Eng- 
land than that of Prose Fiction. We have, it is true, the romantic form 
of this kind of writing in the Arcadia of Sidney, and the philosophical 
form in the Utopia and the Atlantis ; but the exclusive emploj-ment of 
prose narrative in the delineation of the passions, characters, and inci- 
dents of real life was first carried to perfection by a constellation of 
great writers in the eighteenth century, among whom the names of 
Defoe, Richardson, Fielding, Smollett, Sterne, and Goldsmith, are the 
most brilliant luminaries. Originally appearing, as do all types of lit- 
erature, in a poetical form, the rh^oned narratives of chivalry, poured 
forth with such inexhaustible fertility by the Trouv^res of the Middle 
Ages, were in course of time remodelled and clothed in prose, and in 
their turn gave birth to the long, pompous, and unnatural romances of 
the time of Louis XIII. and Louis XIV., which formed the principal light 
reading of the higher classes. In the Grand Cyrus, the Astree, and the 
Princesse de Cloves, a class of writers of whom D'Urfe, Scuderi, Calpre- 
nede, and Madame de la Fayette, may be considered the types, imitated 
in descriptions of the adventures of classically-named heroes, the lofty, 
heroic, stilted language and sentiments which they borrowed from the 
Castilian writers. The absurdities and exaggerations of this kind of 
Btory naturally produced a reaction ; and Spain and France gave birth 
to the Comic Romance originally intended as a kind of parody of the 
superhuman elevation and hair-splitting amorous casuistry of the popu- 
lar fictions. Don Quixote was in this way as much a caricature of 
Montemayor as the Roman Comique of Scarron of the Clelie, or Grand 
Cyrus. In England, where the genius of the nation is eminently prac- 
tical, and where the immense development of free institutions has tend- 
ed to encourage individuality of character, and to give importance to 
private and domestic life, the literature of Fiction speedily divided into 
two great but correlative branches, to which our language alone has 
26* 



S06 THE GREAT NOVELISTS. [Chap. XVII. 

given specific and distinct appellations — the Romance and the Novel. 
Both these terms are indeed ultimate^ derived, like the things they rep- 
resent, from the nations of the South ; the foiTner originally signifying 
the dialect of the Trouveres and Troubadours, and thence, by a natural 
transition, that species of narrative fiction which was most abundantly 
produced in the dialect: the second, the Novella, Nouvelle, or short 
amusing tale, of which such a multitude of examples are to be found in 
the Italian, Spanish, and French literature of the fifteenth and sixteenth 
centuries. It will be sufficient merely to mention the Decamerone of 
Boccaccio and the Cent Nouvelles Nojcvelles of Marguerite of Navarre. 
This latter, the lighter or more comic form of narrative, is a type trace- 
able ultimately to the Fahliaicx of the old Provencal poets. But in 
modern English the Romance and the Novel both express varieties of 
prose and fiction of considerable length and elaborateness of construc- 
tion : the former word indicating a narrative, the characters and inci- 
dents of which are of a loftj', historical, or supernatural tone, while the 
latter expresses a recital of the events of ordinary or domestic life, gen- 
erally of a contemporary epoch. It is the latter department in which 
English writers, from the time of its first appearance in our literature 
down to the present time, have encountered few rivals and no superiors. 
§ 2. The founder of the English Novel is Daniel Defoe (1661-1731), 
a man of extraordinary versatility and energy as a writer, and one of 
the most fertile authors of narrative and controversial productions ; 
for his complete works are said to comprise vipwards of two hundred 
separate writings. His life was agitated and unfortunate. He was the 
son of a butcher in London, and by family as well as personal ^yva- 
pathies an ardent Whig and Dissenter. Indeed, he was educated for 
the ministry in a dissenting sect, but embraced a mercantile career, 
having at various periods carried on the business of a hosier, a tile- 
maker, and a woollen-draper. But his real vocation was that of a 
writer, and the ardor with which he maintained, in innumerable pam- 
phlets, the principles of constitutional liberty, not only distracted his 
attention from his commercial pursuits, but exposed him, in those evil 
times, to repeated persecutions from the Government. He carried his-,N^ 
devotion to Protestant principles so far, as to join the abortive insuriNvi 
rection under the Duke of Monmouth, though from this danger he 
escaped with impunity. He was at different times punished on charges 
of sedition, with all the inhuman brutality of those days, having been 
exposed in the pillory, sentenced to have his ears cut off, severely fined, 
and on two occasions imprisoned in Newgate, his confinement on one 
occasion extending to nearly two years. Nothing, however, could 
daunt or silence this indefatigable champion of libertj', and he contin- 
ued to pour forth pamphlet after pamphlet, full of irony, logic, ari^, ' 

patriotism. Among the most celebrated of his works in this class are 
his Trueborn EnglisJrman, a poem in singularly tuneless rhymes but 
full of strong sense and vigorous argument, in which he defends Wil- 
liam of Orange and the Dutch against the prejudices of his country- 
men, the Hymn to the Pillory, and the famous pamphlet The Shortest 



A. D. 1661-1731.] DANIEL DEFOE. 307 

IVay with the Dissenters^ in which, to show the folly and cnieltj of 
the recent Acts persecuting the Sectarians, he with admirable sarcasm 
adopts the tone of a violent persecutor, and advises Parliament to 
employ the stake, the pillory, and the halter, \idth unrelenting severity. 
The mask of irony is so well worn in this pamphlet, that it vv-as at first 
considered a serious defence of the parliamentary measure, and when 
the trick was discovered the fury of the dominant party knew no bounds. 
The purely political career of Defoe was, generally, from 16S7 to 1715 ; 
and it was during one of his imprisonments that he carried on the 
Rcvievj, a literary journal which may be regarded as the prototype of 
our modern semi-political, semi-literary periodicals. It appeared thrice 
a week, and was written with great force and ready vigor of language. 
During the negotiations which preceded the union of Scotland to the 
British crown, Defoe was employed as a confidential agent in Edin- 
burgh, and acquitted himself with ability. He afterwards published a 
nan-ative of that important event. Defoe's mercantile speculations 
were so unfortunate that he says in one of his poems, — 

"Thirteen times have I been rich, and poor;" 

and he probably employed the unequalled facility of his pen in fiction, 
principally as a means of supplying daily bread to his family, to which 
he was tenderly attached. 

§ 3. In 1719 Defoe published the first part of Robinson Crusoe, the 
success of which, among that comparatively humble class of readers 
which Defoe generally addressed, was instantaneous and immense. 
Indeed, if perfect originality in the plan, and the highest perfection in 
the execution of a fiction, be suflScient to establish a claim of creative 
genius, Defoe must be regarded as a creative genius of no common 
order. The primary idea of Robhison Crusoe may have been derived 
from the authentic narrative of Alexander Selkirk, a sailor who had 
been marooned, as the term then was, by his captain on the uninhabited 
island of Juan Fernandez, where he passed several years in complete 
solitude. Selkirk, who, by a most singular coincidence, was taken off 
the island by the very same captain — Woods Rogers — who had aban- 
doned him there, published on his return to England an account of his 
.sufferings and adventures. By this narrative he appears to have grad- 
ually descended to the condition, if not of a wild beast, at least of a 
savage very little superior in intelligence; for when discovered he had 
almost entirely lost the use of language, which he only obtained again 
after a considerable time. The intense interest of Robinson Crusoe' 
partly arises from the simplicity and probability of the events, the unfore- 
seenness of many of which completely annihilate the reader's suspicion 
of the truth of what he is perusing, the skill with which Defoe identi- 
fies himself with thecharacter of his Recluse, who is always represented 
as a commonplace man, without any pretensions to extraordinary 
knowledge or intelligence. He is, therefore, just such a person as 
every reader, ignorant or cultivated, old or young, can thoroughly sym- 
pathize with, and can fancy, while reading of his difficulties and embar* 



808 THE GREAT NOVELISTS. [Chap. XVIL 

rassments, setting about remedying them, as he himself would do, under 
similar circumstances. Thus Robinson Crusoe is never endowed with 
more ingenuity or forethought than the generality of mankind; and 
thus, for example, when he cuts down a huge tree and after incredible 
labor shapes it into a boat, he finds that it is too heavy for him to launch. 
It is evident that the majority of readers acutely sympathize with this, 
because ninety-nine out of a hundred feel that they would be likely to com- 
mit a similar oversight. It is perhaps somewhat injurious that this book 
is generally read when we are verj' young; for the impressions it leaves 
upon the memory and the imagination, among the strongest that we can 
recall, are so deep and permanent that we do not return to the work 
when increased intellectual development would make us better able to 
appreciate Defoe's wonderful art. The raft, the goats, the dog, cats, and 
parrots, the palisaded fortification, the cave, the wrecked ships, the 
circumnavigation of the island, the fishing, turtle-catching, and plant- 
ing of corn ; every scene, every episode, is indelibly fixed upon the 
mind. It would be difficult to guess how many bojs Robinsofi Crusoe 
has turned into sailors, or how many projects of living with a faithful 
Friday in a desert island, have been generated in childish fancies by 
this incomparable tale. The second part, which the success of the first 
encouraged Defoe to produce, is manifestly inferior to the first : indeed 
the moment the solitude of the island is invaded by more strangers 
than Friday, the charm is evidently diminished. Scott has well 
remarked that a striking evidence of Defoe's skill in this kind of 
fiction is the studiously low key, both as regards style and incidents, 
in which the whole is pitched. Defoe's object was not to instruct, but 
to amuse; to captivate that mysterious faculty by which we identify 
ourselves with imaginary events; and this he most successfully did by 
imitating not only the plain, straightforward, unaffected narratives of 
the old navigators, but their simple, idiomatic, unadorned diction. 

§ 4. Among Defoe's numerous other works of fiction may be men- 
tioned the Memoirs of a Cavalier, supposed to have been written by 
one who had taken part in the great Civil War; in which many histor- 
ical facts are dressed up with that intense personal reality which Defoe 
knew so well how to communicate, and which made Lord Chatham 
cite the book as an authentic narrative. A not less remarkable narra- 
tive is the Journal of the Great Plague in Lo?idoti, where the imagi- 
nary annalist, a respectable London shopkeeper, — a character which 
Defoe assumed with consummate skill, — describes the terrible sights of 
that fearful time. The air of verisimilitude in this book is so complete, 
that grave medical and statistical writers have quoted it as authentic; 
and it is only the application of the tests of modern science that have 
proved it to be a tissue of inventions in which the devastation caused 
by the scourge is most enormously exaggerated. Nothing can exceed" 
the quiet yet not unpicturesque vividness with which episodes of the 
city life during the great calamity are set before us, and in some pas- 
sages, as in the description of the maniac fanatic Solomon Eagle, the 
Great Pit in Aldgate, and the long line of anchored ships stretching 



A. D. 1689-1761.] SAJIUEL RICHARDSON-. 809 

far down the Thames, Defoe rises into a very lofty and powerful strain 
of description. A number of stories, the Adventures of Colonel jfack, 
Moll Flanders, Roxana, Captain Singleton, show the same quiet power 
of imitating reality. They are generally the lives of thieves, robbers, 
and other offscourings of society, and were written, I imagine, purely 
for profit : but Defoe has never pandered to the false taste of his read- 
ers by holding up to admiration the characters and exploits of such 
personages, and has faithfully represented their lives as being for the 
most part as miserable as they are flagitious. In one remarkable tract 
he has described the Apparition of one Mrs. Neal to her friend Mrs. 
Bargrave at Canterbury • and this is one of the boldest experiments 
ever made upon human credulit3% It was composed to help off the sale 
of a dull book of Sermons, and had the effect of instantly causing the 
whole edition to quit the bookseller's shelves ; for Drelincourt on Death 
was powerfully recojnmended by the visitor from another world. 

§ 5. If Robinson Crusoe is less a novel than a tale, being excluded, 
at least in its finer parts, by the solitude of the chief character from 
that play of human interest which properly constitutes the Novel, Sam- 
uel Richardson (16S9-1761) must be regarded as the real founder of 
the romance of private life in English Literature. His life presents 
few materials for comment: it was the career of a careful, prudent, 
industrious tradesman, who raised himself to opulence by the exercise 
of the most laudable though somewhat prosaic assiduity. He was far 
advanced in life — nearly fifty years of age, indeed — before he entered 
upon that literary path which led him to immense and well-deserved 
popularity. He was born of very humble rustic parentage, and came 
to London when a lad to be apprenticed to a printer. In this calling 
he distinguished himself by so much diligence that in the course of 
time he was taken into partnership by his employer, and gradually rose 
to the highest place in his business, being appointed first printer of the 
Journals of the House of Commons, and then, in 1754, Master of the 
Stationers' Company, and in 1760 becoming the purchaser of a half 
share in the lucrative patent office of Printer to the King. Having 
accumulated an easy fortune, he retired to a pleasant suburban house 
at Parson's Green, near London, where he passed an honorable old 
age in literary employment, surrounded by a little knot of female wor- 
shippers, whose adulatory incense his intense vanity made him greedily 
receive. The correspondence and literary remains of Richardson, 
which have been published, give a curious picture of his timid, sen- 
sitive, effeminate character, and of the enervating atmosphere of twad- 
dling flattery with which he loved to surround himself. The works of 
Richardson are three in number, Pamela^ published in 1741, Clarissa 
Harloive, in 1749, and Sir Charles Grandison, in 1753. These three 
novels are all written upon one plan, that is, the story is entirely told 
in letters which are supposed to be written by the various persons in 
the action — a mode of fictitious composition which has frequently been 
employed since Richardson's time, and which is attended with advan- 
tages and disadvantages of a very evident kind. In the first place it 



310 THE GREAT NOVELISTS. [Chap. XVII. 

gives the author the opportunity of successively identifying himself 
with his different characters and exhibiting the minutest shades of their 
feelings and sensations, and this he can do subjectively. On the other 
hand this method of writing is open to the objection of necessitating a 
very slow, minute, and painful evolution of the story; and the improb- 
ability of any real letters being sufficiently minute and voluminous to 
detail all that is essential for the reader's understanding of the plot is 
so great, that it is in general found insurmountable. But the peculiar 
genius of Richardson is seen rather in the evolution of character by 
slow and delicate touches of self-betrayal, than by any vigor of descrip- 
tion — that is, objective description — of persons or events ; and, there- 
fore, in spite of the innate improbability attached to a whole story told 
in letters, he selected the mode best suited to his peculiar genius. 

Pamela describes the sufferings, trials, and vicissitudes undergone b^ 
a poor, but beautiful and innocent, country girl who enters the service 
of a rich gentleman. She triumphantly resists all the seductions and 
all the violence by which he essays to overcome her virtue, and what is 
still more difficult, the promptings of her own heart in his favor; for 
Richardson represents her as passionately attached to her unworthy 
master, to whom, by way of a moral inculcating the reward of virtue, 
she is ultimately married. The letters in which this story is told are 
principally written by Pamela herself; and Richardson exhibits 
throughout the work that profound and wonderful knowledge of the 
female character, which he is said to have acquired in his boyhood, by 
being the amanuensis for carrying on the love-correspondence of three 
young women in humble life. The pathetic power exhibited in Pamela 
is very great, and is an earnest of that intense mastery over the tendei 
emotions which he afterwards exhibited in his Clarissa Harloxve. 
Pamela originally sprang from a collection of familiar letters which 
Richardson, at the request of his publishing, firm, had undertaken to 
write as a manual to improve the style and the morality of the middle 
classes of readers ; and while engaged on it he was struck with the 
happy idea of making his letters tell a continuous story. The success 
of the tale was prodigious ; and we cannot wonder at it when we think 
of the immense contrast between the nature, realitj^, and living interest 
of Pamela and the far-fetched, wire-drawn, impossible caricatures which 
then formed the only light reading of the world — feeble exaggerations 
of the already exaggerated conceptions of the old French romances of 
the seventeenth century. The popularity of Pamela was so great that 
five editions were exhausted in one* year, although this, like all Rich- 
ardson's works, is extremely voluminous, according to our modern 
ideas : for example, his third romance, Sir Charles Grandison^ as 
originally written, would have filled about a dozen octavo volumes. 

Clarissa Harlowe is incontestably Richardson's greatest work. 
Whether we consider the interest of the story, the variety and truth 
of the characters, or the intense and almost unendurable pathos of the 
catastrophe, to which every incident artfully and imperceptibly leads, 
we must not only accord it a decisive superiority over his other produc- 



A. D. 1689-1761.] SAMUEL RICHARD SOm 311 

tions, but must give it one of the foremost places in the history of 
prose fiction. It is the story of a young lady who falls a victim to the 
treachery and profligacy of a man of splendid talent and attractions, 
but of complete and almost diabolical corruption. Though Richard- 
son, both by natural disposition and circumstances, is far more suc- 
cessful in the delineation of female than of male characters, Lovelace, 
the seducer, is one of the most perfect and finished portraits that liter- 
ature has to show. There is no better proof of this than the fact that 
the name has become in all languages the sjmonj'me of the brilliant and 
unprincipled seducer. This circumstance also gives us a record of the 
immense popularity which Richardson still enjoys throughout Europe, 
though its splendor in England has been in some measure eclipsed by 
later novelists, some^ of whom address themselves, like Fielding and 
Scott, more exclusively to national sympathies, whereas Richardson's 
delineations possess the lasting interest attached to general pictures 
of human nature. The prevailing tone of feeling in Clarissa is som- 
bre and mournful, and the sufferings of the pure but injured heroine 
are worked up at the end to a pitch of intensity reminding us of Ford 
or Webster. The interest in this, as in the other works of Richard- 
son, is generated by the accumulation of a thousand little impercepti- 
ble touches, and the characters are elaborated with the slow and 
painful minuteness of the Dutch painters. The reader finds himself 
in an atmosphere of trifling, tedious, and artificial details, but the 
gentle, equable current of passion and incident carries him onward in 
spite of himself, till he feels its force to be irresistible. 

The last work in this famous trilogy is Sir Charles Grandison, in which 
the author, who never relinquished the idea of incorporating a moral 
in his fictions, intended to give an ideal portrait of a character which 
should combine consummate ethical and religious perfection with the 
graces and accomplishments of a man of fashion. In his three suc- 
cessive novels Richardson essayed to portray three different orders in 
the social scale : in Pamela the lower, in Clarissa the middle, and in 
Grandison the aristocratic class of society. But he was, from educa- 
tion and position, totally unacquainted with the real manners and 
modes of thought and feeling prevalent in the fashionable world, and 
in describing what he so imperfectly gviessed at he fell into the error 
natural to men of imperfect education and inexperienced in the man- 
ners of the great world. He is perpetually straining after fine language, 
and his stiff and labored expression forms a ludicrous contrast with the 
really easy, unaffected tone of circles, where, as they have no superiors 
to ape, they are at least free from the vice of vulgar pretension of man- 
ner. The characters he wishes to hold up to admiration — the ultra- 
perfect Sir Charles, with his eternal bowing and solemn hand-kissing, 
and the heroine. Miss Harriet Byron, who is in all respects his worthy 
counterpart — are of that most insupportable category of people who 
are expressively though coarsely designated as prigs, a class equally 
insupportable in fiction and in reality. Indeed the only personages 
with whom we sympathize in Sir Charles Grandison are those in which 



312 THE GREAT NOVELISTS. [Chap. XVII. 

some alloy of human weakness tempers their tiresome perfections : 
thus Clementina, whose madness and despair are delineated with a 
pathetic force that Fletcher might have been proud to own, is far more 
interesting than either. Richardson, with that feminine turn of dispo- 
sition which I have noted in him, shows an extreme tendency to dwell 
upon long and minute description ; and Hazlitt tells a pleasant story 
that he had been disposed to mur,mur at about a dozen pages being 
devoted to the wedding clothes of Sir Charles and his bride, till he 
found that a young lady had actually copied out the whole passage as 
one of the most striking episodes of the story. It is said that Richard- 
son consulted a great lady as to the tone and language of high life ; and 
that she found so many errors and inconsistencies that he abandoned in 
despair the hope of correcting them. In patient analysis of the human 
mind and passions, particularly in the female sex, in a tendency tc 
accumulate minute incident and microscopic description, and in a 
sickly and morbid tone of sentiment, there is considerable resemblance, 
allowing, of course, for differences of nation and of age, between Rich- 
ardson and Balzac; nor is Clarissa an unworthy rival of the enchanting 
portrait of Eugenie Grandet. 

§ 6. The second great name among the novelists of this period is that 
of Henry Fielding (1707-1754), qualified by Byron, with extreme but 
hardly undeserved praise, " the prose Homer of human nature." In 
his personal character, as well as in his literary career, in everything, 
indeed, but the power of his genius, he was the exact opposite of Rich- 
ardson. He was descended from the illustrious house of Denbigh, 
itself an off'shoot from the counts of Habsburg, and his father was 
General Fielding, a man of fashion, ruined by his extravagance. The 
novelist was born in 1707, and received his education first at Eton, and 
aftei-wards at the University of Ley den, whither he went, like many 
young men of fashion, to study the law. His father dying, with his 
aff'airs in inextricable confusion, he returned to England in absolute 
want of money, and though he nominally inherited an income of 200/. 
a year, he found himself dependent upon his own resources for a liveli- 
hood. Of gay and festive inclinations, a favored guest among men of 
pleasure and enjoyment, he naturally betook himself to the stage, and 
at the age of twenty became a dramatic author and a lively writer in 
the Covent Garden Journal. He produced a considerable number of 
pieces, now entirely forgotten, which show that his talent was in no 
v/ay adapted to the theatre. Indeed it seems an established fact that 
no great writer of narrative fiction ever succeeded on the stage. The 
only exceptions I can remember to this rule are the cases of Cervantes 
and Le Sage, while the examples of Walter Scott and a multitude of 
others prove the universality of the principle. The dramatic works of 
Fielding constitute a large portion of his writings ; but none of them 
have either retained possession of the stage or attracted the curiosity 
of the reader. Always passionately fond of gayety and joyous company, 
Fielding struggled on, and married a lady of great beauty and excel- 
lence, Mrs. Craddock, with whom he received a portion of about 1500/. 



A. D. 1707-1754.] HENRY FIELDING. 313 

This he dissipated in a very short time, for he was of an extremely 
sanguine and volatile temper, and was assisted in running through his 
little fortune by the desperate project of speculating in the Haymarket 
Theatre, which completed the ruin of his affairs. He then resumed the 
study of the Law, and was called to the bar in the Temple. Meeting 
with no professional success, he continued his career as a dramatic 
writer, producing a number of pieces exhibiting .vivacity and careless- 
ness rather than any depth of ability, and also took an active part in 
political controversy. In numerous pamphlets and articles for journals 
he maintained liberal and anti-jacobite principles; and it was about 
this period of his life (1742) that he struck out that vein of humorous 
writing in which he never had, nor is ever likely to have, a rival. His 
first novel was Joseph Audrezvs, which was in some sense intended as 
a parody or caricature, ridiculing the timid and fastidious morality, the 
shop-keeper tone and the somewhat preaching good-boy style oi Pamela^ 
just then in the full blaze of success. Richardson's jealous vanity could 
never forgive the wicked wit of Fielding in ridiculing his heroine; and 
he shows in all his correspondence not only an intense soreness, but an 
absolute inability to appreciate Fielding's genius. Like the Roma7i 
Comique of Scarron, which, though written to, laugh at a particular 
class of works, became the prototype of a new and original department 
of Fiction, Fielding's novel at once received the honor due to a great 
original creation; and in pretty rapid succession. he produced his Jour- 
ney from this World to the Next, full of political allusions that have 
now lost their piquancy, and his truly remarkable satirical tale. The 
Life of Jonathan Wild the Great. In 1749 he was appointed to the 
laborious and then far from respectable post of a London police magis- 
trate, a function in which he showed distinguished zeal and intelligence, 
and which was useful to his literary glory by giving him opportunities 
of observing the manners of the lowest of the people. While engaged 
in this ignoble occupation he composed the finest, completest, and pro- 
foundest of his works, the incomparable Tom Jones, which was followed, 
after a brief interval, by Amelia, in which he unquestionably intended 
to portray some of his own follies and irregularities, but with the prin- 
cipal object of paying a tribute to the virtues and affection of his wife. 
Her he had the misfortune to lose, and he soon supplied her place by 
marrying her maid, with whom he had " frequently bewailed the angel 
they had lost." In spite of the seeming oddity of this second choice, 
she made him a prudent and loving partner, and an excellent mother 
to his children. Fielding's health was now completely ruined by labor 
and excesses : he was attacked with dropsy, and ordered to try a warmer 
climate. He sailed for Lisbon in 1754, and after passing a short time 
died in that city, and was buried in the Protestant cemetery there 
towards the end of the same year. 

§ 7. The qualities which distinguish Fielding's genius are close and 
accurate observation of character, and an extraordinary power of de- 
ducing the actions and expressions of his personages from the elements 
of their nature, a constant sympathy with the vigorous, unrestrained 
a" 



314 THE GREAT NOVELISTS. [Chap. X\qi. 

characters, in all ranks of society, butespecicllj in the lowest, which he 
loved to delineate. With the vast ard motley field of English society, 
so strongly marked at that time, he was minutely acquainted, and his 
spirit of analysis, at once learned and picturesque, delighted in the 
reproduction of the oddities and eccentricities of man. He is intensely 
English in his subject as in his mode of treatment. Hogarth himself 
is not more powerfully national : painter and novelist exhibit the same 
direct and practical vigor, which, however, is always compatible with an 
appreciation of the subtlest shades of character. In the construction 
of his plots he is masterly. That of Tom Jones is perhaps the finest 
example to be met with, in fiction, of a series of events probable yet 
surprising, each of which inevitably leads to the ultimate catastrophe. 
He combined an almost childish delight in fun and extravagantly ludi- 
crous incident, with a philosophic closeness of analysis of character 
and an impressive tone of moral reflection, the latter often masked 
under a pleasant air of satire and irony. His novels breathe a sort of 
fresh open-air atmosphere, a strong contrast to the close, artificial 
medium which pervades the romances of Richardson. When we are 
reading the latter we seem to be surrounded with the close, breathless 
atmosphere of a city parlor : taking up Fielding is like emerging into 
the bracing, sun-shiny air of a high-road. A large proportion of the 
scenes and adventures in Fielding takes place in inns and in the course 
of travelling : this is to be explained by the much greater proportion 
of time then passed on the road, when men proceeded from place to 
place on foot, on horseback, in the humble wagon, or in the aristo- 
cratic coach and six, and were consequently brought more closely and 
frequently into contact with the miscellaneous crowd of travellers. 

Joseph Andrews was originally written as a kind of parody upon 
Pamela^ and for this purpose the chief character was represented as the 
brother of Richardson's heroine; and Pamela's virtuous resistance to 
seduction was transferred, with great humor, to the person of a young 
footman. Joseph, on being expelled from the household of Squire 
Booby, in consequence of the jealous rage of his mistress, — the " spretse 
injuria formse," — wanders about England in company with his friend 
and humble companion Parson Adams, one of the richest, most humor- 
ous, and truly genial conceptions of this great painter of character. 
Adams's learning, simplicity, and courage, together with his innumer- 
able and always consistent oddities, make him as truly humorous a 
character as Sancho Panza himself. There is no doubt that in the low 
social estimation, as well as in the ignorance and coarseness of many 
of his clerical personages, Fielding has faithfully represented the 
degraded state of the rural clergy at the time when he wrote. 

The adventures of Jonathan Wild the Great were intended to be a 
satire upon the false estimate generally formed of glory, and the whole 
book is written in a tone of irony. The hero was a real person, origi- 
nally a thief, housebreaker, and highwayman, and afterwards a spy and 
secret agent of the police ; he became celcbi-ated as a receiver of stolen 
goods, and after committing a thousand crimes was most justly hanged. 



A. D. 1721-1771.] TOBIAS GEORGE SMOLLETT. 815 

The exploits of this consummate scoundrel are related in a tone of 
ironical admiration ; but though the story contains some po-\^rful and 
many humorous scenes, the reader becomes wearj of the uninterrupted 
meanness and depravity of the persons and events. 

In Tom Jones it is difficult to know what most to admire, the artful 
•conduct of the plot, the immense variety, truth, and humor of the 
personages, the gayety of the incidents, or the acute remarks and 
reflections which the author has plentifully interspersed, in most cases 
in the introduction to his chapters. The character of Squire Western, 
the type of the violent, brutal rural magnate of those days, is one 
which remains forever fixed on the memory, and thousands of inferior 
personages might be cited, each marked ineffaceably, though often 
lightly, with the stamp of truth and nature. Tom Jones himself and 
the fair Sophy, though elaborated by the author with peculiar care, 
as types of all that he thought attractive, are generally found to be 
tinged with much coarseness and vulgarity. Fielding's standard, 
whether for grace or morality, was not a very high one, and the time 
when he wrote was remarkable for the low tone of manners and senti- 
ment — perhaps the lowest that ever prevailed in England ; for it v/as 
precisely a juncture when the romantic spirit of the old chivalric man- 
ners was extinguished, and before the modern standard of refinement 
was introduced. 

The interest of Amelia is entirely domestic and familiar : the errors 
and repentance of Captain Booth, and the inexhaustible love and indul- 
gence of the heroine, are strongly contrasted ; but we never can get rid 
of the conviction that Booth is but a sorry scamp, and are hardly com- 
pensated for our indifference to the principal character by the extraor- 
dinary vividness, nature, and reality of the subordinate ones. Field- 
ing had little or no power over the pathetic emotions; there are, how- 
ever, in this novel several episodes and strokes of character which are 
touching, and exhibit that peculiar and essential characteristic of truly 
humorous conceptions, namely, the power of touching the heart while 
exciting the sense of the ludicrous. It is a curious contradiction that 
while Richardson, a man of the humblest birth and career, should have 
chiefly described aristocratic life. Fielding, the man of fashion and of 
lofty origin, should have preferred to paint the manners of the lowest 
of the people. Fielding, in spite of much coarseness and indecency, 
is fundamentally sound in his moral principles, though he excuses, 
if he does not justify, a considerable degree of laxity. He seems 
inclined to pardon any escapade, if rendered venial by high spirits, 
youth, and passion, and accompanied with courage, frankness, and 
generosity. 

§ 8. Tobias George Smollett (1721-1771), descended from an 
ancient and respectable family in Scotland, was educated, first at Dum- 
barton, and afterwards at the University of Glasgow. Being totally 
without fortune, he determined to embrace the medical profession, and 
was apprenticed to a practitioner in Glasgow of the name of Gordon. 
A-fter remaining a short time in this man's service, the future poet anJ 



316 THE GREAT NOVELISTS. [Chap. XVII. 

novelist, then only nineteen years of age, and burning with literary 
ambition, proceeded to London with the MS. of a tragedy, entitled the 
Regicide^ in his pocket. Failing in his attempt to bring out this work, 
he entered the naval service in the humble capacity of surgeon's mate 
on board a man-of-war, and was present at the inglorious and un- 
fortunate expedition to Carthagena, under the command of Admiral 
Knowles. Here he had the opportunity of studying the oddities of 
sea-characters, which he afterwards so admirably reproduced in his 
fictions, and of learning by experience the atrocious cruelty, corruption, 
and incompetency which then reigned in the naval administration. 
He left the service and resided for some time in the West Indies, 
whence he returned in 1744, and began to unite literary pursuits with 
the practice of his profession in London. He was the author of several 
satires and other poetical pieces now forgotten, but in 1748 he began 
his career of a novelist with Roderick Ra7ido7n, in some respects the 
most vigorous of his fictions. In the manaer and construction of his 
novels he follows the models of Le Sage and of those Spanish authors, 
in the style called picaresca, whom Le Sage himself imitated ; and he 
relied for success rather on a lively series of grotesque adventures than 
on anj' elaboration of intrigue or deep analysis of character. Peregrine 
Pickle was published in 175 1, and Smollett, meeting with but small 
success as a physician, now devoted himself to the career of a writer 
and politician. For the task of controversy he was well qualified by 
the vigor and readiness of his style, by the ardor of his opinions, and 
the patriotic elevation of his principles ; but he was rash, violent, and 
impulsive, and more than once changed his side, not from any inter- 
ested or unworthy motive, but under the influence of his personal feel- 
ings. In 1753 he produced his third great romance. The Adventures of 
Ferdinand^ Coiuit Fathom^ describing, with a higher moral intention 
than is usually found in his works, the career of an unprincipled scoun- 
drel, cheat, and swindler. This book forms a sort of counterpart or 
parallel to Fielding's Jonathan JVi/d, and is open to the same objec- 
tions. Two years later this indefatigable worker brought out his trans- 
lation of Don .Quixote, in which he clearly shows himself utterly 
unable to appreciate the higher, more poetical, and ideal side of the 
great conception of Cervantes, and has confined himself solely to the 
grotesque and farcical side of that vast creation. About this time the 
violence of Smollett's political opinions brought him in collision with 
the law; the terrible picture he had given of maladministration in the 
Navy and his severe strictures on the conduct of Admiral Knowles 
caused him to be defeated in an action for libel. He was fined 100/. and 
imprisoned for three months, during which time he continued the man- 
agement of the Critical Review, in the pages of which the obnoxious 
strictures had appeared, and in his capacity of literary censor he man- 
aged to raise up against himself a whole swarm of angry politicians, 
writers, and doctors. He now produced his novel of Sir Lancelot 
Greaves, a most unfortunate and feeble eflfort to adapt the plot and 
leading idea of Don Quixote to English contemporary life ; and wrote, 



I 



i 



A.D. 1721-1771] TOBIAS GEORGE SMOLLETT. 317 

with extraordinary rapidity, his History of England^ in which his 
ardent and partial judgments are no less remarkable than the consum- 
mate elegance and calm prophetic spirit which charm in the pages of 
Hume. In a Tour in France and Italy ^ which he undertook to divert 
his grief under the loss of a beloved child, Smollett exhibits a painful, 
and almost ludicrous incapacity to appreciate the beautiful, sublime, or 
interesting objects he met with : he " travelled from Dan to Beersheba, 
and found all barren," In a now-forgotten tale, The Adventures of an 
Atotn, he attacked Bute, who had formerly been his patron. This work 
may be said to correspond with the Journey from this World to the 
Next, in the not very dissimilar literary career of Fielding. Smollett's 
health was now completely broken up through incessant labor and con- 
tinual agitation, and he was, like his illustrious contemporary, obliged 
to try the effect of a more genial climate. He resided a short time at 
Leghorn, and there, in spite of weakness, exhaustion, and suffering, the 
d\-ing genius gave forth its most pleasing flash of comic humor. This 
was the novel of Humphrey Clinker, the only fiction in which Smollett 
adopted the epistolary form, and the most cordial, comic, and laughable 
of them all. Like Fielding he died and was buried in a foreign land; 
and two of the most intensely national of our painters of character 
were doomed, nearly at the same time, to lay their bones under the soil 
of the stranger. 

§ 9. In the structure of. his fictions Smollett is manifestly inferior 
both to Richardson and P^ielding: he does not possess the slow but 
exquisitely logical evolution of the former, or the skilful combination 
and planning of connected incidents which distinguish the latter. His 
novels are a series of striking, grotesque, farcical, and occasionally pa- 
thetic scenes, which have little other bond of union than the fact of their 
being threaded, so to say, on the life of a single person. Yet his books 
are eminently amusing ; the reader's attention is kept awake by a lively 
succession of persons and events, some of which, though they may be 
coarse and low-lived, are invariably vivid and life-like, while the tendency 
to florid description and sentimental exaggeration does not deprive 
others of the charm of freshness and earnestness. The characters in 
Smollett are extraordinarily numerous and animated, but they are not 
analyzed with the profound psychological anatomy of Fielding : some 
prominent feature is seized, some oddity is placed in a strong light and 
exhibited in full development, and the reader asks for nothing more. 
This external or superficial mode of delineation makes Smollett very 
careless about maintaining the consistency of his personages. He never 
scruples to sacrifice that consistency, whether it refer to their bodily or 
mental qualities, when it stands in his way in placing them under ridic- 
ulous points of view : thus Roderick Random is sometimes represented 
as gawky, ugly, and even mean and cowardly, and at other times as 
eminently handsome and brave. There cin be no doubt that Smollett 
was frequently in the habit of transferring to his novels real adventures 
of his own life : thus Random's miseries at school, his apprenticeship 
with the apothecary, his journey to London, his experiences in the fleet, 
27* 



318 TUE GREAT NOVELISTS. [Chap. XVII. 

have the strongest air o^ being transcripts of reality : many of the per- 
sons introduced, and no small proportion of the scenes, as for example the 
medical examination, and the abominable tyranny and abuses on board 
ship, were unquestionably drawn from the life. The same may be said 
of his inimitable and exquisitely varied sailor-characters, from Lieuten- 
ant Bowling and Ap Morgan in the first novel, through the rich gallery 
of oddities in his later works, particularly Commodore Trunnion and 
Pipes in Peregrine Pickle. Smollett's heroes are generally a little too 
much of the picaresque, or Lazarillo de Tormes type : they have but 
little to attract the reader's sympathy, being generally hard, impudent, 
selfish, and ungrateful adventurers ; but in the subordinate persons, and 
especially in those of grotesque but faithful followers, like Strap or 
Pipes, Smollett shows a greater warmth of sentiment. His style is lively 
and picturesque; much more careless than that of Fielding, who occa- 
sionally produces passages of considerable length that are noble speci- 
mens of English prose, and he allows the fire of his imagination to 
seduce him into the faults of tawdriness and sentimentality. Many of 
his most laughable scenes — and such abound in his writings — depend 
for their eflect upon what may be called mechanical humor, blows and 
kicks and extravagant terrors : but these low episodes are not made the 
occasion, as they often are in Fielding, of educing profound traits of 
human character. With the laugh he has excited, Smollett's use of 
them is at an end. In Humphrey Clinker^ though running over with 
fun and grotesque incident, there is a riper and mellower tone of char- 
acter-painting than is to be found in his preceding works : the person- 
ages of Lismahago and Tabitha Bramble are inimitably carried out : 
^ the latter is indeed perhaps the most finished portrait in Smollett's 
'" whole gallery. This latter novel contains a great deal of what is merely 
descriptive, being the travelling-journal of the droll and original party 
whose various letters make up the work; and the modern reader may 
gather from Smollett's descriptions of the country and the various water- 
ing-places in England and Scotland visited during the imaginary tour, 
most curious and interesting details concerning the state of the country 
and the manners of our forefathers. Smollett, like Fielding, and indeed 
like most authors of those days, was in the habit, probably in imitation 
of the practice of Cervantes and the old masters, of occasionally intro- 
ducing long episodical narratives into the midst of his novels ; a most 
injudicious custom, and equally injurious to the effect of the intercalary 
tale and of the work in which it was set. Examples of what I mean 
will be found in the history of the Fair Marcelia in Don Qiiixote, the 
absurd and unnatural story of the Man of the ^///introduced into To)n 
Jones, and the Story of the Lady of Quality, which Smollett is said to 
have been bribed to insert in one of his novels. 

Smollett possessed considerable poetical talents : he wrote the pow- 
erful verses entitled the Tears of Scotland, which breathed the patri- 
otic indignation of a generous mind, horror-struck by the cruelties 
inflicted by the orders of the Duke of Cumberland after the battle of 
CuUoden. This little poem is equally honorable to the civil courage 



A. D. 1713-176S.] LAURENCE STERNE. 319 

of Smollett as to his genius, for so free an expression of outraged patri- 
otism was then dangerous, and it is recorded that the poet, when 
warned of that danger after composing six stanzas of vigorous denun- 
ciation, instantly sat down and added a seventh, more bitter and sting- 
ing than those which had gone before. 

§ 10. Laurence Sterne (1713-1768) was a brilliant literary comet. 
His character was as eccentric as his works, both the one and the other 
being marked bj strange inconsistency, equally attractive to the imagi- 
nation and incompatible with severe principle. He was born in Ire- 
land, but educated, with the assistance of some relations of his 
mother's, at Cambridge. Entering the Church, he enjoyed, through 
their interest, considerable preferment in the north, having long held 
the living of Sutton, to which he afterwards added a prebend's stall in 
the Cathedral of York ; and he was ultimately advanced to the rich 
living of Coxwold. His private life was little in harmony with his pro- 
fession : he appears to have been a fanciful, vain, self-indulgent humor- 
ist, perpetually at war with the neighboring clergy, and masking 
caprice and harshness under a pretence of extreme sensibility. His 
conduct to his wife was base and selfish. The first two volumes of his 
novel of Tristram Shandy were published in 1761, and the novelty and 
oddity of his style instantly raised him to the summit of popularity : 
two more volumes appeared in the following 3'ear, and Sterne became 
the pet and lion of fashionable London societj^, where he gratified his 
morbid appetite for flattery and indulged in a series of half-immoral, 
half-sentimental intrigues, some of them with married women. He 
made two tours on the Continent, the first in France, and the second 
in France and Italj^ where he accumulated the materials incorporated 
in his delightful Sentnnental Journey^ intended to form a part of his 
romance, but which is generallj' read as an independent work. In this 
book he personates his favorite character Yorick, a mixture of the 
humorist and the sentimental observer. The Se7itimental Journey, 
with all its faults of taste and morality, has the merit of breathing a 
tone of complacency, candor, and appreciation of the good qualities of 
foreign nations, equallj^ rare and laudable at a time when Englishmen 
regarded all other countries, and especially France, with the most nar- 
row-minded prejudice and hostility. Sterne's health had always been 
precarious; he had all his life been consumptive, and the feverish life 
of London society broke up a constitution naturally sickly. He died 
alone and fi'iendless in a Bond Street lodging-house, attended in his 
last illness by mercenaries, who are said to have plundered him of such 
trifles as he possessed — a comfortless and gloomy ending, which he 
had himself desired. 

His works consist of the novel of Tristram Shandy, of the Sc?ifi- 
mental Journey, and of a collection of Sermons, written in the odd and 
fantastic style which he brought into temporary vogue. It is not an 
easy task to give an intelligible account of the plan, the merits, and 
the defects of his writings. Tristram Shandy, though nominally a 
romance in the biographic \\ form, is intentionally irregular and capri- 



320 THE GREAT NOVELISTS. [Chap. XVIL 

cious, the imaginary hero never making his appearance at all, and the 
storj consisting of a series of sketches and episodes introducing us to 
the interior of an English country family, one of the richest collections 
of oddities that genius has ever delineated. The narrative is wruten 
partly in the character of Yorick (Sterne himself), supposed to be a 
clergyman and a humorist, and partly in that of the phantom-like 
Tristram; and the most prominent persons are Walter Shandy, a 
retired merchant, the father of the supposed hero, his mother, his 
uncle Toby Shandy (a veteran officer), and his servant Corporal Trim. 
These are all conceived and executed in the finest and most Shak- 
sperian spirit of humor, tenderness, and observation ; and they are 
supported by a crowd of minor yet hardly less individual portraitures 
— Obadiah, Dr. Slop, the Widow Wadman, Susanna, nay, down to the 
"foolish fat scullion." Mr. Shandy, the restless, crotchety philosopher, 
is delineated with consummate skill, and admirably contrasted with the 
simple benevolence and professional enthusiasm of the unequalled 
Uncle Tob}', a personage belonging to the same category of creative 
genius as Sancho or as Parson Adams. The characters in Sterne are 
not delineated descriptively, but rather allusively ; and thus the reader 
incessantly enjoys the pleasure of making out their pleasant and eccen- 
tric features, not through the medium of the author, but by himself, as 
if they were real personages. The conversations, the incidental epi- 
sodes, all introduce us to the eccentricities and amiable oddities of the 
persons ; and perhaps the very absence of all regular construction, the 
abrupt transitions, the complete confusion of all order, the exclama- 
tions, parenthetical chapters, and the abrupt and interjectional char- 
acter of the style, contribute to the effect of the whole. In all Sterne's 
writings there is a great parade of obscure and quaint erudition, which 
passed off at the time these books appeared, when the elder authors 
were but rarely studied, as indicative of immense learning; but he is 
known at present to have been a most unscrupulous plagiarist, pillaging 
Burton, Rabelais, and the seldom-consulted pages of the old lawyers 
and canonists. All this, however, tends powerfully to give an original 
flavor to his style. His humor and his pathos are often truly admira- 
ble; and he possesses in a high degree that rare power, found only in 
the greatest humorists, of combining the ludicrous and the pathetic; 
but both his humor and his pathos are very often false and artificial, 
the one degenerating into bufibonery, indecency, and even profanity in 
more than a single instance, and the other into a morbid and sickly 
sentimentality. He is always trembling on the verge of an obscene 
allusion; and many passages, both in Shandy and the Sentunental 
Journey^ are quite unjustifiable as coming from the pen of a clergy- 
man. In this mixture of pruriency and theatrical sentiment Sterne 
resembles certain of the most brilliant French authors ; and even the 
rapidity and abruptness of his style cause him to be perhaps the only 
one of our great humorists who can be adequately translated into 
French. His episodes, as the often-quoted Story of Le Fevre, are 
related with consumm.ate art and tenderness; but in Sterne — probabl^y 



A. D. 1728-1774.] OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 321 

from his vanitj' and deficiency of discrimination — there is no medium 
between excellence and failure. He is an acute and just observer of 
the little turns of gesture and expression, and makes his characters 
betray their idiosyncrasies by involuntary touches, just as men do in 
real life. 

§ 11. The most charming and versatile, and certainly one of the 
greatest writers of the eighteenth century, is Oliver Goldsmith 
(1728-1774), whose works, whether in prose or verse, bear a peculiar 
stamp of gentle grace and elegance. He was born at the village of 
Pallas in the county of Longford, Ireland, in 1728. His father was a 
poor curate of English extraction, struggling, with the aid of farming 
and a miserable stipend, to bring up a large family. By the assistance 
of a benevolent uncle, Mr. Contarine, Oliver was enabled to enter the 
University of Dublin in the humble quality of sizar. He, however, neg- 
lected the opportunities for study which the place offered him, and 
became notorious for his irregularities, his disobedience to authority, 
and above all for a degree of improvidence carried to the extreme, 
though excused by a tenderness and charity almost morbid. The 
earlier part of his life is an obscure and monotonous narrative of in- 
effectual struggles to subsist, and of wanderings which enabled him to 
traverse almost the whole of Europe. Having been for a short time 
tutor in a family in Ireland, he determined to study medicine ; and after 
nominally attending lectures in Edinburgh, he began those travels — 
for the most part on foot, and subsisting by the aid of his flute and the 
charity given to a poor scholar — which successively led him to Leyden, 
through Holland, France, Germany, and Switzerland, and even to 
Pavia, where he boasted, though the assertion is hardly capable of 
proof, that he received a medical degree. His professional as well as 
his general knowledge was of the most superficial and inaccurate char- 
acter. It was while wandering in the guise of a beggar in Switzerland 
that he sketched out the plan of his poem of the Traveller, which after- 
wards formed the commencement of his fame. In 1756 he found his 
way back to his native country; and his career during about eight years 
was a succession of desultory struggles with famine, sometimes as a 
chemist's shopman in London ; sometimes as an usher in boarding- 
schools, the drudge of his employers and the butt and laughing-stock 
of the pupils; sometimes as a practitioner of medicine among the 
poorest and most squalid population — "the beggjvrs in Axe Lane," as 
he expressed it himself; and more generally as a miserable and 
scantily-paid bookseller's hack. More than once, under the pressure of 
intolerable distress, he exchanged the bondage of th.e school for the 
severer slavery of the corrector's table in a printing-office, and was 
driven back again to the bondage of the school. The grace and readi- 
ness of his pen would probably have afforded him a decent subsistence, 
even from the hardly-earned wages of a drudge-writer, but for his 
extreme improvidence, his almost childish generosity, his passion for 
pleasure and fine clothes, and above all his propensity for gambling. 
At one time, during this wretched period of his career, he failed to 



82g THE GREAT NOVELISTS. [Chap. XVII. 

pass the examinatioi. qualifying him for the humble medical post of a 
hospital -mate ; and, under the pressure of want and improvidence, 
committed the dishonorable action of pawning a suit of clothes lent 
him by his employer, Griffiths, for the purpose of appearing with 
decency before the Board. His literary apprenticeship was passed in 
this severe school — writing to order, and at a moment's notice, school- 
books, tales for children, prefaces, indexes, and reviews of books; and 
contributing to the Monthly, Critical, and Lady's Review, the British 
Magazine, and other periodicals. His chief employer in this way 
appears to have been Griffiths, and he is said to have been at one time 
engaged as a corrector of the press in Richardson's service. In this 
period of obscure drudgery he composed some of his most charming 
works, or at least formed that inimitable style which makes him the 
rival, and perhaps more than the rival, of Addison. He produced 
the Chinese Letters^ the plan of which is imitated from Montesquieu's 
Lettres Persanes, giving a description of English life and manners in 
the assumed character of a Chinese traveller, and containing some of 
those little sketches and humorous characters in which he was vm- 
equalled ; a Life of Beau Nash ; and a short and gracefully-narrated 
History of England^ in the form of Letters from a Nobleman to his 
Son, the authorship of which was ascribed to Lyttleton. It was in 1764 
that the publication of his beautiful poem of the Traveller caused him 
to emerge from the slough of obscure literary drudgery in which he had 
hitherto been crawling. The universal judgment of the public pro- 
nounced that nothing so harmonious and so original had appeared 
since the time of Pope; and from this period Goldsmith's career was 
one of uninterrupted literary success, though his folly and improvidence 
kept him plunged in debt, which even his large earnings could not 
enable him to avoid, and from which indeed no amount of fortune 
would have saved him. In 1766 appeared the Vicar of Wakefield^ that 
masterpiece of gentle humor and delicate tenderness ; in the following 
year his first comedy, the Good-natured Man, which failed upon the 
stage in some measure from its very merits, some of its comic scenes 
shocking the perverted taste of an audience which admired the whining, 
preaching, sentimental pieces that were then in fashion. In 1768 Gold- 
smith composed, as taskwork for the booksellers — though taskwork 
for which his now rapidly rising popularity secured good payment — 
the History of Rome, distinguished by its extreme superficiality of 
information and want of research no less than by enchanting grace 
of style and vivacity of narration. In 1770 he published the Deserted 
Village, the companion poem to the Traveller, written in some measure 
in the same manner, and not less touching and perfect; and in 1773 
was acted his comedy She Stoops to Conquer, one of the gayest, 
pleasantest, and most amusing pieces that the English stage can boast. 
Goldsmith had long risen from the obscurity to which he had been 
condemned : he was one of the most admired and popular authors of 
his time ; his society was courted by the wits, artists, statesmen, and 
writers who formed a brilliant circle round Johnson and P^eynolds, — 



A. D. 1728-1774] OLIVER GOLDSMITIT. 323 

Burke, Garrick, Beauclerk, Percy, Gibbon, Boswell, — and he became 
a member of that famous Chib which is so intimately associated with 
the intellectual history of that time. Goldsmith was one of those men 
whom it is impossible not to love, and equally impossible not to despise 
and laugh at: his vanity, his childish though not malignant envy, his 
more than Irish aptitude for blunders, his eagerness to shine in conver- 
sation, for which he was peculiarly unfitted, his weaknesses and genius 
combined, made him the pet and the laughing-stock of the company. 
He was now in the receipt of an income which for that time and for the 
profession of letters might have been accounted splendid ; but his im- 
providence kept him plunged in debt, and he was always anticipating 
his receipts, so that he continued to be the slave of booksellers, who 
obliged him to waste his exquisite talent on works hardly thrown off, 
and for which he neither possessed the requisite knowledge nor could 
make the necessary researches : thus. he successively put forth as task- 
work the History of England, the History of Greece, and the History 
of Animated Nature, the two former works being mere compilations of 
second-hand facts, and the last an epitomized translation of Buffon. 
In these books we see how Goldsmith's never-failing charm of style 
and easy grace of narration compensate for total ignorance and a com- 
plete absence of independent knowledge of the subject. In 1774 this 
brilliant and feverish career was terminated. Goldsmith was suffering 
from a painful and dangerous disease, aggravated by disquietude of 
mind arising from the disorder in his affairs ; and relying upon his 
knowledge of medicine he imprudently persisted in employing a violent 
remedy against the advice of his, physicians. He died at the age of 
forty-six, deeply mourned by the brilliant circle of friends to which his 
very weaknesses had endeared him no less than his admirable genius, 
and surrounded by the tears and blessings of many wretches whom his 
inexhaustible benevolence had relieved. He was buried in the Temple 
Churchyard, and a monument was erected to his memory in Westmin- 
ster Abbey, for which Johnson wrote a Latin inscription, one passage of 
which gracefully alludes to the versatility of his genius : "qui nullum 
fere scribendi genus non tetigit, nullum quod tetigit non ornavit." 

§ 12. In everything Goldsmith wrote, prose or verse, serious or comic, 
there are a peculiar delicacy and purity of sentiment, tinging, of course, 
the language and diction as well as the thought. It seems as if his 
genius, though in its earlier career surrounded with squalid distress, 
was incapable of being sullied by any stain of coarseness or vulgarity. 
Though of English descent, he had in an eminent degree the defects as 
well as the virtues of the Irish character; and no quality in his writings 
is more striking than the union of grotesque humor with a sort of pen- 
sive tenderness, which gives to his verse a peculiar character of gliding 
melody and grace. He had seen much, and reproduced with singular 
vivacity quaint strokes of nature, as in his sketch of Beau Tibbs and 
innumerable passages in the Vicar of Wakefield. The two poems of 
the Traveller and the Deserted Village will ever be regarded as master- 
pieces of sentiment and description. The light yet rapid touch with 



324 THE GREAT NOVELISTS. [Chap. XVII. 

which, in the former, he has traced the scenery and the natural pecu- 
liarities of various countries will be admired long after the reader has 
learned to neglect the false social theories embodied in his deductions ; 
and in spite of the inconsistency, pointed out by Macaulay, between the 
pictures of the village in its pristine beauty and happiness, and the 
same village when ruined and depopulated by the forced emigration of 
its inhabitants, the reader lingers over the delicious details of human 
as well as inanimate nature which the poet has combined into the 
lovely pastoral picture of " sweet Auburn." The touches of tender 
personal feeling which he has interwoven with his description, as the 
fond hope with which he dwelt on the project of returning to pass his 
age among the scenes of innocence which had cradled his boyhood, 
the comparison of himself to a hare returning to die where it was 
kindled, the deserted garden, the village alehouse, the school, and the 
evening landscape, are all touched with the pensive grace of a Claude; 
while, when the occasion demands, Goldsmith rises with easy wing to 
the height of lofty and even sublime elevation, as in the image of the 
storm-girded 3'et sunshine-crowned peak to which ^e compares the 
good pastor. 

The Vicar of Wakefield, in spite of the extreme absurdity and incon- 
sistency of its plot, an inconsistency' which grows more perceptible in 
the latter part of the story, will ever remain one of those rare gems 
which no lapse of time can tarnish. The gentle and quiet humor em- 
bodied in the simple Dr. Primrose, the delicate yet vigorous contrasts 
of character in the other personages, the atmosphere of purity, cheer- 
fulness, and gayety which envelops all the scenes and incidents, will 
contribute, no less than the transparency and grace of the style, to 
make this story a classic for all time. Goldsmith's two comedies are 
written in two different manners, the Good-natured Matt being a comedy 
of character, and SJie Stoops to Conquer a comedy of intrigue. In the 
first the excessive easiness and generosity of the hero are not a quality 
sufficiently reprehensible to make him a favorable subject for that satire 
which is the essential element of this kind of theatrical painting; and 
the merit of the piece chiefly consists in the truly laughable personage 
of Croaker, and in the excellent scene where the disguised bailiffs are 
passed off on Miss Richland as the friends of Honeywood, whose house 
and person they have seized. But in She Stools to Conquer we have a 
first-rate specimen of the comedy of intrigue, where the interest mainly 
depends upon a tissue of lively and farcical incidents, and where the 
characters, though lightly sketched, form a gallery of eccentric pictures. 
The best proof of Goldsmith's success in this piece is the constancy 
with which it has always kept possession of the stage; and the peals of 
laughter which never fail to greet the lively bustle of its scenes and the 
pleasant absurdities of Young Marlow, Mr. and Mrs. Hardcastle, and 
above all the admirable Tony Lumpkin, a conception worthy of Van- 
brugh himself. 

Some of Goldsmith's lighter fugitive poems are incomparable for 
their peculiar humor. The Haunch of Venison is a model of easy 



A. D. 1 728-1 774.] NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 325 

narrative and accurate sketching of commonplace society; and in 
Retaliation we have a series of slight yet delicate portraits of some of 
the most distinguished literary friends of the poet, thrown off with a 
hand at once refined and vigorous. In how masterly a manner, and 
yet in how few strokes, has Goldsmith placed'before us Garrick, Burke, 
and Reynolds ! and how deeply do we regret that he should not have 
given us similar portraits of Johnson, Gibbon, and Boswell ! Several 
of the songs and ballads scattered through his works are remarkable 
for their tenderness and harmony, though the Edwin and Angelina 
which has been so often lauded, has always appeared to me mawkisn, 
affected, and devoid of the true spirit of the mediaeval ballad. 



NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 

OTHER NOVELISTS. 



Sarah Fieij>inq (1714-1768) was sister of the 
celebrated novel-writer, and herself well known ag 
an authoress. Her best known novels were David 

Simple and The Cry. She alsj translated Xeno- | the "baser sides of literature and life.' 
phon'g Mtmorabilia. 



Chakles Johnstone (d. 1800) was the author 
of the once popular Adventures of a Guinea, 1760, 
and other now unknown works. The former is a 
severe satire on the sins and follies of the age. Wo 
lay it down "with a feeling of relief." It exhibits 



826 HISTORICAL WRITERS. [Chap. XVIII. 



CHAPTER XVIII. 

HISTORICAL, MORAL, POLITICAL, AND THEOLOGICAL 
WRITERS OF THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY. 

§ 1. David Hume. His life and publications. Treatise on Human Nature and 
• History of England. ^ 2. William Robertson. Histories of Scotland, 
Charles V., and America. § 3. Edward Gibbon. His life and works. § 4. 
Criticism of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire. § 5. Samuel John- 
son. His early life and struggles. London. Life of Savage. § 6. English 
Dictionary. Vatiity of Human Wishes. Tragedy of Irene. § 7. The Idler 
and Rambler. Rasselas. Johnson receives a pension from the government. 
§ 8. His acquaintance with Boswell. Edition of Shakspeare. Journey to the 
Hebrides. Lives of the Poets. Johnson's death. § 9. Edmund-Burke. His 
life and writings. Essay on the Sublime and Beautiful. His impeachment of 
Warren Hastings. Letter to a Noble Lord. Reflections on the French Revo- 
lution. Letter on a Regicide Peace. § 10. Letters of Junius. \\\. Adam 
Smith. Inquiry itito the Nature and Causes of the Wealth of Nations. 
§ 12. Sir William Blackstone. Commentaries on the Laws of Englmid. 
\ 13. Bishop Butler and William Paley. § 14. Gilbert White. Nat- 
ural History of Selborne. 

§ 1. In accordance with that peculiar law which seems to govern the 
appearance, at particular epochs, of several great names in one depart- 
ment of art or literature, like the sculptors of the Periclean age, the 
romantic dramatists in that of Elizabeth, and the novelists who ap- 
peared in England in the days of Richardson and Fielding, the eigh- 
teenth century was signalized by a remarkable wealth of historical 
genius, and gave birth to Hume, Robertson, and Gibbon. 

David Hume (1711-1776) was born, of an ancient Scottish family, in 
171 1, and received his education in the University of Edinburgh. His 
desires and ambition were irresistibly set upon literary fame, and after 
reluctantly trying the profession of law and the pursuit of commerce, 
he lived abroad some years, devoting himself, by means of prudence 
and economy, to the cultivation of moral and metaphysical science, and 
to the preparation of his mind for future historical labors. His intel- 
lect was calm, philosophical, and sceptical, and he imbibed that strong 
disbelief in the possibility of miracles which, when expressed in his 
subtle logic and refined purity of style, has rendered him one of the 
most dangerous enemies of revealed religion. In 1737 he returned to 
England, and was so much discouraged with the coldness of the public 
towards his first moral and metaphj'sical productions that he at one 
time meditated changing his name and expatriating himself forever. 
In 1746 and the following year a gleam of success shone upon him, for 
he had hitherto lived in such narrow circumstances that his extreme 
prudence and economy scarcely enabled him to subsist respectably, and 



A. D. 1711-1776.] D AMD HUME. ' 327 

he was even at one time reduce.! to the painful and uncongenial office 
of taking charge of the young Marquis of Annandale, who was insane. 
He now entered the public service, and was employed as Secretary to 
General St. Clair in various diplomatic missions. When again resid- 
ing at Edinburgh, in 1752, he accepted the post of Librarian to the 
Faculty of Advocates, for which he received no salary, but which 
placed at his disposal a large and excellent collection of books. With 
the aid thus furnished he began his great work, the History of England 
from the accession of the Stuart Dynasty to the Revolution of 1688, to 
which he afterwards added in successive volumes the earlier history 
from the invasion of Julius Caesar to the reign of James I. Though 
the first volumes were received with the same neglect as had encoun- 
tered his previous publications, the extraordinary merits of the plan 
and the incomparable clearness and beauty of the narration soon over- 
came the indifference of the public, and the history gradually and rap- 
idly rose to the highest popularity, and took that place among the 
prose classics of the language which it has ever since retained. The 
admiration excited by the History, by a natural consequence, reacted 
also upon his previous works, which now began to enjoy a high degree 
of popularity, in spite of the heterodox tenets which they were accused 
of maintaining. Hume's reputation was now solidly established : he 
was again employed in the public service, and accompanied as secre- 
tar}' the embassy of General Conway to Paris, where he became one of 
the lions of the fashionable society of the French capital, a popularity 
which he owed more to his literary glory and to the sceptical theories 
— then so prevalent in France — of which he was one of the apostles, 
than to any personal aptitude for the society of wits and fine ladies ; 
for Hume was heavy and inelegant in appearance, and possessed few 
charms of conversation or readiness of repartee. He afterwards ful- 
filled for a short time the still higher functions of Under-Secretary of 
State, and retiring with a pension passed the evening of his life in 
philosophic and intellectual tranquillity, enjoying the respect and affec- 
tion which his virtuous and amiable qualities attracted, and which not 
even his scepticism could repel. Hume died in 1776. He was distin- 
guished by great benevolence of heart, and by a spirit of candor and 
indulgence to the opinions of others, which might have been advan- 
tageously imitated by many of those who controverted his opinions. 

As a moral and metaphj'sical writer Hume certainly deserves a high 
place in the history of philosophy. The prominent feature of his 
Treatise on Human Nature, published in 1738, was the attempt to 
deduce the operations of the mind entirely from the two sources of 
impressions and ideas, which he looks upon as distinct, and his deny- 
ing the exi? ence of any fundamental difference between such actions 
as we call virtuous and vicious, other than as they are practically" found 
to be conducive to or destructive of the advantage of the individual or 
the species. In other words Hume is the assertor of the theory of 
Utility, as the only one capable of satisfactorily explaining the m_y&- 
terious question — What is the essential difference between good and 



328 HISTORICAL WRITERS. [Chap. XVIII. 

evil ? Such a theory was received with intense dissatisfaction by the 
orthodox : but seldom has the controversialist to encounter a toughfer 
antagonist than Hume, the clearness of whose exposition, and the sub- 
tlety of whose arguments, a subtlety the more formidable as it is always 
veiled under an air of philosophic candor, were but too often met with 
declamation and unfair attacks on a personal character which was above 
reproach. But the chief danger of Hume's philosophical doctrines lies 
in his famous argument on the impossibility of miracles, based upon 
the two propositions : first, that it is contrai-y to all human experience 
that miracles should be true, both reason and facts tending to shov/ the 
invariable nature of the laws which govern all physical phenomena; 
and secondly, that the improbability of a miracle ever having taken 
place is far greater than the improbability of the testimony to such an 
event being false, the witnesses being likely either to have been duped 
themselves or to dupe others. 

The History of Et2 gland is a book of very high value. In a certain 
exquisite ease and vivacity of narration it certainly has never been sur- 
passed; and in the analysis of characters and the appreciation of great 
events, Hume's singular clearness and philosophic elevation of view 
give him a right to one of the foremost places among modern histori- 
ans. But its defects are no less considerable. Hume's indolence 
induced him to remain contented with taking his facts at second-hand 
from preceding writers, without troubling himself about accuracy. 
Thus legendary and half-mythological stories are related with the same 
air of belief as the more well-authenticated events of recent times ; a 
fault pardonable enough in Herodotus and Livy, but less venial in a 
writer who ought to have applied his powerful critical faculty to the 
sifting of truth from tradition. Hume, essentially a classicist of the 
Voltaire and Diderot type, too much despised the barbarous monkish 
chroniclers to think of consulting them as authorities, or of separating 
the germ of fact which they envelop in a mass of superstitious and 
imaginative detail. Moreover, the history of England is essentially 
the history of the conflict of opinion on religious and political ques- 
tions ; and Hume was indifferent to religion, and a partisan of extreme 
monarchical opinions in politics. Thus he shows a strong leaning to 
the Stuart dynasty, and even to the Catholic church as opposed to 
Protestantism ; for he belonged to the aristocratical section of the 
Scottish people, who were almost uniformly Jacobites, while the middle 
and lower classes were as ardent supporters of liberal principles. The 
sceptical and philanthropic reasoner was, by a singular paradox, 
inclined from personal sympathies to opinions precisely contrary to 
those which he might have been expected to maintain, and struggles 
by sophistry to excuse the crimes and follies of the arbitrary Stuarts, 
while he exhibits an indifference, strange in a man so benevolent by 
nature, to the sufferings and heroism of those who, in Parliament or 
on the field of battle, fought the great fight for political and religious 
freedom. 

§ 2. Contemporary with Hume was his countryman William Rob- 



A. D. 1721-1794.] ROBERTSON, GIBBON. 829 

ERTSON (1721-1793), distinguished, like him, by the eloquence of his 
narrative, by the luminous dissertations on great historical questions 
introduced into his works, by the picturesque power of delineating 
characters and events, and also by a singular dignitj' and purity of 
style, which is almost free from Scotticisms. His personal career was 
that of a Presbyterian pastor, and he was highly celebrated for his 
eloquence in the f ulpit. In 1762 he was elected Principal of the Uni- 
versity of Edinburgh, where he had received his education, and he 
exhibited remarkable powers as a speaker and debater in the Scottish 
General Assembly of Divines. He produced three great historical 
works, the History of Scotland, embracing the reigns of the unfortu- 
nate Mary and of her son James VI. down to the accession of the latter 
to the throne of England, the History of the Reign of Charles V., and 
the History of the Discovery, and first Colonization by the Spaniards, 
of America. These three productions appeared respectively in 1759, 
1769, and 1777.* In all of them we perceive a rich and melodious 
though somewhat artificial style, great though not always accurate 
research, and a strong power of vivid and pathetic description. The 
History of Scotland is perhaps the work most honorable to Robertson's 
genius, for in the other two the grandeur and dramatic interest of the 
subject were such that, in the hands even of an inferior author, the 
reader's curiosity could not but be excited and gratified. Moreover, 
though many of the general disquisitions prefixed to or introduced in 
Robertson's history are marked by largeness of view and lucidity of 
arrangement, his account of many episodes of the life of Charles V., 
and in particular of his retirement to San Yuste, contains much of tha 
romantic and theatrical inaccuracy which recent investigations have 
dispelled: and in this work, as well as in the wondrous story of Colum- 
bus and the Conquestadors, he either knew not or neglected vast stores 
of information which would have thrown a very different light upon the 
characters and events he had to portray. This assertion will be amply 
proved by comparing Robertson's account of these great events with 
the more recent labors of Prescott, Motley, and others. In spite of 
these defects, Robertson's name will always retain an honorable place 
among the prose-writers and historians of England. 

§ 3. But by far the greatest name in English historical literature — 
indeed one of the very foremost names in all historical literature — is 
that of Edward Gibbon (i737-i794). Descended from an ancient 
family, he was born at Putney near London in 1737, and was the 
grandson of a merchant of large fortune. His health, during his boy- 
hood and early youth, was exceedingly precarious, and he owed the 
gradual fortifying of his constitution, and the first development of his 
intellectual faculties, to the more than maternal care of an aunt, Cathe- 
rine Porten. His education was at first neglected, but he gradually 
acquired an insatiable appetite for reading of all kinds, which at length 

* Robertson also published, in 1791, an Historical Disquisition concerning the 
Knowledge which the Antients had of India ; a vvc "k of great merit, though now 
superseded by more recent investigations. 
28* 



330 'historical WRITERS. [Chap. XVIII. 

concentrated itself upon historical literature. He passed a short time 
at Westminster school, and was intrusted to several successive private 
tutors, but at the early age of fifteen was placed at Magdalen College, 
Oxford, where he remained only fourteen months, still pursuing his 
studies in a vague and desultory manner. An ardent fit of controver- 
sial reading, and the arguments he found in Pascal and Bossuet, over- 
threw his attachment to the doctrines of Protestantism, and on his 
formally einbracing the Catholic faith, his father, shocked at such 
apostasy, sent him to Lausanne, where he was placed under the care 
of M. Pavillard, an eminent Swiss theologian. The arguments of his 
tutor so far prevailed as to induce him to re-enter the Protestant 
Church, though his religious belief from this time forward was little 
more than a sort of philosophical Deism. In Switzerland, however, he 
commenced that course of regular and systematic study, which grad- 
ually filled his mind with immeasurable stores of sacred and profane 
learning : and here too his mind acquired that strong sympathy with 
PVench modes of thought that make him the least national of all our 
great authors. While in Switzerland he conceived a passion for 
Susanne Curchod, afterwards the wife of Necker, and the mother of 
Madame de Stael; but Gibbon's sensibility was never very ardent, and 
he acquiesced, with decent readiness, in the refusal of his father to 
permit the union. Returning to England, he passed some time in the 
frivolous pleasures of a young gentleman of fortune ; but without 
relaxing in his intense diligence of study, which he found means to 
maintain even during the five years he passed in military service as 
captain of the Hampshire militia. It was at this period that he gave 
to the world the first-fruits of his pen in the excellent little essay, 
written in French, on the Study of Literature. Between 1763 and 1765 
he travelled over France, Switzerland, and Italy, and while at Rome, 
in 1764, the first idea of writing the historj^ of the Decline atid Fall of 
the mighty empire first flashed upon his mind. He has given a most 
striking and picturesque description of the moments of the generation 
and the completion of his great work. The sudden shock of concep- 
tion given amid the sunset ruins of the Capitol, " while the barefooted 
friar-'^ were singing vespers in the Temple of Jupiter," found its pic- 
turesque consummation in the "valley of acacias" by the moonlit lake 
of Geneva in 1787. Gibbon returned to England in 1765, and set stren- 
uously to work on the composition of his history, the first volume of 
wliich appeared in the following year, and was received not only with 
the applause of the learned, but with universal popularity among the 
fashionable world and the ladies. The praises of Hume found an echo 
in the gayest and most frivolous circles. At various intervals appeared 
the successive volumes, each of which excited the admiration and 
enthusiasm which the grandeur of the work was so calculated to inspire. 
Gibbon has related the hesitation, and almost terror, with which the 
immense extent and difficulty of his enterprise at first filled him, and 
the fastidious care with which he revised and re-revised the opening 
chapters, the first of which he wrote thrice, and the second twice over, 



A. D. I737-I794-] EDWARD GIBBOK 331 

before he was slitisfied with the style ; but as he advanced, the various 
parts of his gigantic subject took form and symmetry, and the increas- 
ing facility of composition enabled him to advance with steady speed. 

With the year 1774 begins Gibbon's political career: he sat in several 
successive Parliaments as member for Liskeard, and supported, v/ith a 
silent vote — for both modesty and vanity prevented him from trying 
his fortune as a speaker — the ministry, during the whole course of the 
American War, down to the formation of the Coalition Cabinet. Lord 
North rewarded his constant adhesion with the post of one of the Lords 
Commissioners of Trade, which Gibbon enjoyed for about three years, 
till the abolition of the office in 1782. In 1783 Gibbon determined to 
settle altogether at Lausanne. He established himself in the com- 
fortable house which he had purchased on the lovely shore of Lake 
Leman, a spot forever memorable from the residence of this great 
genius. This was perhaps the happiest part of his life; he was able to 
devote himself in tranquillity to his mighty task, and his leisure hours 
were enlivened with intellectual society and the companionship of his 
friend Deyverdun. At length his residence at Lausanne becoming dis- 
agreeable in consequence of the agitation which heralded the outbreak 
of the Fr-ench Revolution, he returned to London in 1793, and died 
there in the following year. The personal character of Gibbon was 
rather respectable than attractive. Of a cold and somewhat selfish 
disposition, he played a prominent part in the brilliant intellectual 
circle which surrounded Burke and Johnson ; his immense acquirements 
and refined manners rendered his conversation interesting and valuable, 
£ind his vanity, though concealed by good breeding and knowledge of 
the world, was not incompatible with generosity and benevolence. 

§ 4. His History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire is 
undoubtedly one of the greatest monuments of industry and genius. 
The task he undertook, to give a connected narrative of one of the 
most eventful periods in the annals of the world, — 

"Res Romanas, perituraque regna," — 

was colossal. It embraced, exclusive of the introductory sketch of Ro- 
man history from the time of Augustus, of itself a noble monument of 
philosophical research, a period of upwards of thirteen centuries, that 
is, from about 180 to 1453 A. D. This immense space included not only 
the manhood and the decrepitude of the Roman Empire, but the irrup- 
tion of the Barbarian nations, the establishment of the Byzantine 
power, the reorganization of the European nations, the foundation of 
the religious and political system of Mahometanism, and the Crusades. 
The enormous scope of the undertaking rendered indispensable not 
only the most vast and accurate knowledge of the whole range of clas- 
sical, Byzantine, mediaeval, and Oriental literature, but such a large- 
ness of view as should give a clear and philosophical account of some 
of the greatest religious and social changes that have ever modified the 
destinies of our race ; the rise of Christianity, the Mussulman domin- 
ion, and the institutions of Feudalism and Chivalry. Nor was the 



332 HISTORICAL WRITERS. [Chap. XVIII 

complexity of the subject less foi-midable than its exTtent; while the 
materials for much of its treatment were to be painfully sifted from the 
rubbish of the Byzantine annalists, and the wild exaggerations of the 
Eastern chroniclers. From this immense chaos were to be deduced 
light, order, and regularity, and the historian was to be familiar with 
the whole range of philosophy, science, politics, and war. Gibbon has 
confessed that his experience of parliamentary^ tactics and the knowl- 
edge of military affairs which he had acquired in the House of Com- 
mons and in the Hampshire militia, had been of signal service to him 
in describing the deliberations of senates and the movements of 
immense armies ; for man is everywhere the same, and the historian 
possessed the rare art of bringing home to our sympathies and under- 
standing the sentiments and actions of remote ages and distant peo- 
ples. Gibbon is one of the most dangerous enemies by whom the 
Christian faith was ever assailed — he was the more dangerous because 
he was insidious. The following is the plan of his tactics. He does 
not formally deny the evidence upon which is based the structure of 
Christianity, but he indirectly includes that system in the same cate- 
gory with the mythologies of paganism. The rapid spread of Chris- 
tianity he explains by merely secondary causes; and in relating the 
disgraceful corruptions, persecutions, and superstitions which so soon 
supplanted the pure morality of the primitive church, he leads the 
reader to consider these less as the results of human crime, folly, and 
ambition, than as the necessary consequences of the system itself. He 
either did not or would not distinguish between the farceque and 
quoigue ; and represents what is in realitj' an abuse as an inevitaWe 
consequence. Byron well described him as 

" Sappincj a solemn creed with solemn sneer, 
The lord of irony, that master-spell." 

But the accusations of having intentionally distorted facts or garbled 
authorities he has refuted in the Vindication in which he replied to his 
opponents. In the full and complete references and quotations with 
which he scrupulously fortifies his assertions and his deductions, we see 
a panoply which offers few weak places to the aa\ersary. The delib- 
erate opinion of Guizot, whom no one can accuse of indifference to 
religion, will be conclusive as to Gibbon's merit on this point. His 
style is remarkably pompous, elaborate, and sonoious: originally arti- 
ficial, it had gradually become the natural garb of his thoughts. In 
the antithetical and epigrammatic structure of his phrases, and in the 
immense preponderance of the Latin over the Teutonic element in his 
diction. Gibbon is the least English of all our writers of the first class : 
and the ease with which whole pages of his writings maybe translated, 
almost without a change of words or grammar, into French, render 
credible the statement of his having for some time hesitated whether 
to compose his work in that language or his mother-tongue. He was 
so fastidious in his search after elegance, that to avoid the repetition, 
at close intervals, of a name or event, he is apt, each time it occurs 



A. D. 1709-1784.] SAMUEL JOIINSOir. 833 

after the first, to express it by a periphrasis or an incidental allusion, 
to understand which often demands from the reader a degree of knowl- 
edge which few readers possess, and this is sometimes the cause of 
obscurity. His descriptions of events, as of battles, of nations, of 
individual characters, are wonderfully life-like and animated; and his 
chief sin against good taste is a somewhat too gorgeous and highly- 
colored tone. His imagination was sensuous, and he dwells with 
greater enthusiasm upon material grandeur than upon moral eleva- 
tion ; for his moral susceptibilities do not appear of a very lofty order. 
He had in common with Voltaire a peculiar and most offensive delight 
in dwelling upon scandalous and immoral stories, and this tendency, 
which in Voltaire's light and fleering style is less repulsive, becomes 
doubly odious when exhibited in combination with Gibbon's solemn 
and majestic language. 

§ 5. Perhaps the most striking figure in the social and literary history 
of this period is that of Samuel Johnson (1709-1784). His career was 
eminently that of a man of letters ; and the slow and laborious efforts 
by which, in spite of every obstacle, personal as well as material, he 
raised himself to the highest intellectual supremacj^ present a spectacle 
equally instructive to us and honorable to him. He was born in 1709, 
the son of a learned, but poor and struggling provincial bookseller in 
Lichfield ; and he exhibited, from his very childhood, the same singular 
union of mental power and constitutional indolence, ambition and hyp- 
ochondriacal gloom, which distinguished him through life. He was 
disfigured and half blinded by a scrofulous disorder, which seamed and 
deformed a face and figure naturally imposing, and at the same time 
afl[licted him with strange and involuntary contortions, reacting also upon 
his mind and temper, and making him sombre, despondent, and irrita- 
ble. In the various humble seminaries, where he received his early 
education, he unfailingly took the first place ; and being assisted by a 
benevolent patron with the means of studying at the University, he car- 
ried to Pembroke College, Oxford, an amount of scholarship very rare 
at his age. Here he remained about three j^ears, remarkable for the 
roughness and uncouthness of his manners, and no less for his wit and 
insubordination, as well as for that sturdy spirit of independence which 
made him reject with indignation any offer of assistance. The story of 
his throwing away a pair of new shoes, which some one, pitj'ing the 
poverty of the ragged student, had placed at his door, is striking, and 
even pathetic. His father's affairs being in hopeless confusion, and the 
promises of assistance not being fulfilled, he was obliged to leave the 
University without a degree ; and receiving, at his father's death, only 
20/. as his share of the inheritance, he abandoned it to his mother's use, 
for he was ever a most dutiful and generous son, and entered upon the 
hard career of teacher and usher in various provincial schools. For 
success in this profession he was equally unfitted by his person, his 
nature, and the peculiar character of his mind and acquirements ; and 
after unsuccessfully attempting to keep a school himself at Edial, near 
Lichfield, he began that tremendous struggle with Is. >Qr and want, which 



334 MORAL WRITERS. [Chap. XVIII. 

continued during thirty years. His first literary undertaking was a 
translation of Father Lobo's Travels in Abysshiia, but his hopes of 
success meeting with little but disappointment, he determined to launch 
upon the great ocean of London literary life. In 1736 he had married 
Mrs. Porter, a widow old enough to be his mother, but whom, notwith- 
standing her defects of person and cultivation, he alwaj-s loved with the 
energy of his masculine and affectionate character. In 1737 he trav- 
elled to London in company' with David Garrick, one of the few pupils 
he had had under his charge at Edial, who was destined, in another 
path, to follow a brilliant career. Garrick's ambition was to appear on 
the stage, where he speedily took the first place, and Johnson carried 
with him the unfinished MS. of his tragedy Irene. Without fortune, 
without friends, of singularly uncouth and forbidding exterior, Johnson 
entered upon the career — then perhaps at its lowest ebb of profit and 
respectability — of a bookseller's hack, or literary drudge. He became 
a contributor to divers journals, and particularly to the Gentleman''s 
Alagazme, then carried on by its founder, Cave ; and as an obscure 
laborer for the press he furnished criticisms, prefaces, translations, in 
short all kinds of humble literary work, and ultimately supplied reports 
of the proceedings in Parliament, though the names of the speakers, in 
obedience to the law which then rendered it penal to reproduce the 
debates, were disguised under imaginary titles. He first emerged into 
popularity in 1738, by the publication of his satire entitled London, an 
admirable paraphrase or reproduction of the thirteenth satire of Juve- 
nal, in which he adapts the sentiments and topics of the greot Roman 
poet to the neglect of letters in London, and the humiliations which an 
honest man must encounter in a society where foreign quacks Jtnd native 
scoundrels could alone hope for success. During this miserable and 
obscure portion of his career, when he dined in a cellar upon sixpenny- 
worth of meat and a pennyworth of bread, when he signed himself, in 
a note to his employer, "yours, impransus^ S. Johnson," when his rag- 
ged coat and torn shoes made him ashamed to appear at the table of 
his publisher, and caused him to devour his dinner behind a screen, he 
retained all his native dignity of mind and severe honesty of principle. 
There is something affecting in the picture of this great and noble mind 
laboring on through toil and distress which would have crushed most 
men, and which, though it roughened his manners, only intensified his 
humanity, and augmented his self-respect. In 1744 he published the 
Life of Savage, that unhappy poet whose career was so extraordinary, 
and whose vices were not less striking than his talents. Johnson had 
known him well, and they had often wandered supperless and homeless 
about the streets at midnight. The vigorous and manlj^ thought ex- 
pressed in Johnson's sonorous language rendered this biography popu- 
lar; but the improvement in the author's circumstances was very tardy 
in making its appearance : no literary life was ever a more correct exem- 
plification than tht^t of Johnson, of the truth of his own majestic line : 
" Slow rises worth by poverty depressed." 
§ 6. During the eight j'ears extending from 1747 to 1755 Johnson was 



A. D. 1709-1784.] SAMUEL JOHNSON. 335 

engaged in the execution of his laborious undertaking, the compilation 
of his great Dictionary of the Ens^lish Latiguagc^ which long occu- 
pied the place among us of the Dictionary- of the Academy in France 
and Spain. The etymological part of this great work, in consequence 
of Johnson sharing the then almost universal ignorance of the Teu- 
tonic' languages, is totally without value; but the accuracy and com- 
prehensiveness of the definitions, and above all the interesting quota- 
tions adduced to exemplify the different senses of the words, render it a 
book that may always be read with pleasure. The compilers of the 
French and Spanish Dictionaries do, indeed, quote passages, in sup- 
port of the meanings they assign to words, from the great classical 
writers of their respective literature ; but these quotations have no fur- 
ther interest, or even sense, than is necessary to exhibit the particular 
meaning of the word illustrated, while Johnson's are either some strik- 
ing passage of poetry and eloquence, or some historical fact or scien- 
tific axiom or definition. Thus a page of Johnson's Dictionary always 
gratifies a curiosity quite independent of mere philological research. 
When we think of this solitary scholar with painful industry compiling 
a great national work, at least not inferior to productions which in 
other countries have occupied the attention of learned and richly en- 
dowed societies during a gi'eat number of j'ears, we cannot but feel 
deep admiration for our countryman. While engaged in this laborious 
task he diverted his mind by the publication of the Vanity of Htanan 
Wis/ics, a companion to his London, being a similar imitation of the 
tenth satire of his Roman prototype. This is written in a loftier, more 
solemn and declamatory style than the preceding poem, and is a fine 
specimen of Johnson's dignified but somewhat gloomy rhetoric. The 
illustrations, drawn from history, of the futility of those objects which 
men sigh for, literary, military, or political renown, beautj^, wealth, 
long life, or splendid alliances, Johnson has reproduced with kindred 
vigor; but he has added several of his own, where he shows a power 
and grandeur in no sense inferior to that of Juvenal. Thus to the 
striking picture of the fall of Sejanus, related with such grim humor 
by the Roman satirist, Johnson has added the not less impressive pic- 
ture of the disgrace of Wolsey, and his episode of Charles XII. is no 
unworthy counterpart to the portrait of Hannibal. At about the same 
time Johnson brought out upon the stage, principally through the 
friendly interest of Garrick, who was now the principal theatrical man- 
ager, the tragedy of Irene, which had long been in vain awaiting the 
opportunity of representation. Its success was insignificant, and indeed 
could not have been otherwise, for the plot of the piece is totally devoid 
of interest and probability; there is no discrimination of character, no 
painting of passion, and the work consists of a series of lofty moral 
declamations in Johnson's labored and rhetorical style. 

§ 7. Johnson founded, and carried on alone, two periodical papers 
in the style that Addison and Steele had rendered so popular. These 
were the Idler, which lasted but a short time, and the Rambler, appear- 
ing twice a week and sold at a low price. The ease, grace, pleasantry. 



S.36 MhRAL WRITERS. [Chap. XVIII. 

and variety which gave such charm to the Tatler and Spectator are 
totally incompatible with the heavy, antithetical, ponderous manner of 
Johnson; and his good sense, piety, and sombre tone of morality are 
but a poor substitute for the mite ingeniuni and knowledge of the world 
displayed in his models. Yet though bearing every mark of labor, 
Johnson's essays were written with great rapidity, and often despatched 
to the press without revisal. This species of periodical essay-writing, 
which exerted so powerful an influence on taste and manners in the 
eighteenth century, maybe said to terminate with the Rambler^ though 
continued with gradually increasing want of originality by other writers, 
till it finally died out with Hawkesworth, Moore, and Bonnell Thorn- 
ton,* the former of whom was but a feeble mimic of the Johnsonian 
manner. Johnson's mother died in 1759, and he wrote with extraor- 
dinary rapidity, and for the purpose of raising funds for her funeral, 
his once-celebrated moral tale, Rasselas, Prince of Abyssinia. The 
manners and. scenery of this story are neither those of Oriental nor 
of any other known country, and the book is little else but a series of 
dialogues and reflections, embodying the author's ideas on an immense 
variety of subjects connected with art, literature, society, and philoso- 
phy, and his lofty, but gloomy and discouraging principles of ethics 
and religion. It has sometimes been fancifully contrasted with the 
Candide of Voltaire, and indeed it would be diflScult to find two nearly 
contemporary works presenting a more complete antagonism in ten- 
dency and manner. 

At various periods of his career Johnson had given to the world 
several political pamphlets, generally distinguished for the violence 
with which arbitrary doctrines are maintained, and for a strange mix- 
ture of sense and vigor and narrow prejudice. Thus he was an ardent 
opponent of the rights of the American colonies to revolt against 
oppression, and through his whole life exhibited an ardent advocacy 
of extreme Tory doctrines, singularly at variance with his liberality in 
other respects. It was not till 1762, when the philosopher had reached 
the age of fifty-three, that he emerged from the constant poverty which 
had hitherto almost overwhelmed him, and against which he had so 
valiantly struggled. At the accession of George III. the government 
hoped to gain popularity by showing some favor to art and letters ; and 
Johnson, who now occupied an honorable and leading position as a 

* John Hawkesworth (1715-1773) edited The^Adventurer^ which appeared 
twice a week from 1752 to 1754. Hawkesworth also translated Telemackus, and 
wrote an account of Captain Cook's voyages. 

Edward Moore (1712-1757) edited The Worl^, which appeard weekly from 
1753 to 1756, and in which he was assisted by Lord Lyttelton, the Earl of Ches- 
terfield, Horace Walpole, and other distinguished literary men. Moore likewise 
wrote a tragedy called The Gamester. 

Bonnell Thornton (1724-1768) wrote, in conjunction with his friend George 
Colman the elder, 7'Ae Connoisseur, which appeared from 1754 to 1756. Thornton 
was the author of several other works ; but he is best known by his translation 
of Flautus, which he .made in conjunction with Warner and Colman. 



I 



A. D. 1740-1795] JA3IES BOS WELL. 337 

mofalist and poet, was gratified by Lord Bute with a pension of 300/. 
a year. Johnson now found himself, for the first time in his life, placed 
above want, and was able to indulge not only his constitutional indo- 
lence, but that noble charity and benevolence which transformed hi« 
dwelling into a sort of asylum for helpless indigence. In spite of 
his own poverty he had maintained under his roof a strange assembly 
of pensioners on his bounty, whose only claims upon him were their 
infirmities and their distress. There was Anna Williams, a blind 
poetess, Mrs. Desmoulins, and I.evett, a sort of humble practitioner of 
medicine among the most miserable classes of London ; and a thousand 
anecdotes are related of the generosity of Johnson to these inmates, 
with whose quarrels and repinings he bore, and over whom he watched 
with unrelaxing kindness. 

§ 8. At this period of his life Johnson became acquainted with 
James Boswell (i 740-1 795), whose biography of the old sage is per- 
haps the most perfect and interesting account of a literary life and a 
literary epoch which the world has yet seen. Boswell was a young 
Scottish advocate of good family and fortune; he belonged to a nation 
which Johnson regarded with unreasonable and almost ludicrous aver 
sion ; he was vain, tattling, frivolous, and contemptible in the highest 
degree, totally deficient both in self-respect, tact, and solidity of princi- 
ple; yet his sincere admiration for Johnson established a lasting 
friendship between these incompatible characters, and Boswell has 
produced not only the most lively and vivid portrait of the person, 
manners^ and conversation of Johnson, but the most admirable picture 
of the society amid which he played so brilliant a part. Among the 
most celebrated social meetings of that age of clubs was the society 
founded by Johnson, and in which his friends Reynolds, Burke, Garrick, 
Bishop Percy, Goldsmith, Bennet Langton, Beauclerc, and others, 
were prominent figures. Indeed from its very foundation the most 
distinguished artists, conversers, and men of letters have been mem- 
bers of this club ; and Boswell's delight was to record the " wit combats " 
which were incessantly taking place among them, as well as to preserve 
every fragment that he could collect by hearsay and observation, of the 
manners and converse of his idol. Thus he has given us, with a con- 
summate skill only the more astonishing from what we know of his 
character, the most accurate yet lively transcript of the intellectual 
society of Johnson's day. Johnson's powers of conversation were 
extraordinary: he delighted in discussion, and had acquired by constant 
practice the art of expressing himself with pointed force and elegance, 
while the ponderous antitheses and sesquipedalian diction of his written 
style were replaced by a muscular and idiomatic expression which 
formed an appropriate vehicle for his weighty thoughts, his apt illus- 
trations, and his immense stores of reading and observation. He often 
argued for victory; and the ingenious paradox and sledge-hammer 
repartees with which he sometimes overwhelmed opposition, are by no 
means the least interesting traits of his wonderful skill in social contest. 
Hardly any subject was broached on which Johnson had not something 
29 



9 
338 MORAL WRITERS. [Chap. XVIII. 

ingenious, if not admirable, to saj. This was perhaps the most brilliant 
and the happiest portion of his life. He made the acquaintance of the 
family of Thrale, a rich brewer and member of the House of Commons, 
who, like most of his contemporaries, was filled with admiration bj the 
varied and imposing talents of the great wit and writer, and whose 
wife was equally famous for her own talents and for the bright intel- 
lectual society she loved to assemble round her. At Thrale's house 
in London, as well as at his luxurious villa at Streatham, Johnson 
was for many years a frequent and an honored guest. His comfort was 
studied, his sickness was nursed, his coarseness of manner forgiven, 
and down to the time of Thrale's death Johnson enjoyed under his roof 
all that friendship and respect, aided by boundless wealth, could give. 
This connection, which lasted about fourteen years, gave Johnson the 
opportunity of frequenting refined society; and in the company of 
the Thrales he made several excursions to different parts of England, 
and once indeed as far as Paris. He undertook, unfortunately' for his 
fame, the task of preparing a new edition of Shakspeare, an enterprise 
for which he was unfitted not only by his little sympathy with that 
romantic class of poetry of which Shakspeare is the chief representa- 
tive, but by an almost total want of acquaintance with the writings of 
Shakspeare's age, an accurate knowledge of which is of course a primary 
requisite for any one who wishes to explain the obscurities of the poet. 
The edition, with the exception of an occasional happy remark, and a 
sensible selection from the commentaries of preceding annotators, is 
quite unworthy of Johnson's reputation. In 1773 ^hnson undertook, 
in company with his friend Boswell, an expedition to the Hebrides, a 
journey which would in those days have appeared almost as enterpris- 
ing as would now an exploration of the interior of Africa; and this 
voyage not only enabled him to make acquaintance with Scotland arid 
the Scots, and thus to dissipate many of his old prejudices against the 
country and the people, but gave him the opportunity of exercising his 
observation and curiosity on a region entirely' new to him and rarely 
visited by travellers. The volume in which he gives an account of his 
impressions contains many interesting and characteristic passages. 
His last work of any consequence, and which is also unquestionably his 
best, was the Lives of the Poets, originating in the proposal made to 
him by several publishers that he should write a few lines of biographi- 
cal and critical preface to the collected works of the English poets, of 
which they were preparing an edition. Johnson accepted the task, but 
the work far outgrew the limits originally proposed, and he furnished 
an invaluable series of literary portraits. Unfortunately the plan alto- 
gether excluded the greatest poets that our literature has produced, and 
admitted no names, excepting those of Milton, Butler, Dryden, and 
Pope, which can be ranked in the first, or even very high in the second 
class. It seemed as if the plan had been purposely designed to embrace 
what was undoubtedly the least poetical epoch of our literature. But 
Johnson performed his task with such skill, and poured forth so abun- 
dantly the stores of his sound sense and acute "reflection, that these lives 



A. D. 1731-1797.] EJ)MXJND BURKE. 339 

are not only one of the most-^amusing books in the language, but 
contain, in spite of the narrowness of the author's literary creed, in- 
numerable passages of the happiest and most original criticism, 
particularly in the appreciation of those writers who, belonging to 
what is called the classical or artificial school, exhibit characteristics 
which Johnson was capable of appreciating. His remarks upon the 
poetry of Cowley, Waller, and Pope are admirable; and his immense 
knowledge of life, and sharp and weighty sense, have filled his pages 
with striking and valuable observations. He incorporated with this 
work his previously written Life of Savage ; and on comparing the style 
.-)f this book with his preceding productions, we are struck by its com- 
parative freedom from that pompous and rhetorical tone which 
disfigures his earlier prose-writings, in which the abuse of antithesis, 
of carefully balanced sentences, and of the emploj'ment of long Latin- 
ized words, had been carried so far as almost to justify his writing being 
denied the title of idiomatic English. In 1784 this good man and 
vigorous writer died, after suffering severely from dropsy and a com- 
plication of disorders; and it is consoling to reflect that the morbid 
and almost hypochondriac horror of death which had tormented him 
during his whole existence gave way, under the influence of his strong 
religious sentiments, and at the approach of the moment he had so 
dreaded, to a calm and resignation worthy of so wise and so benevolent 
a character. Few literary men have enjoyed so much deference as 
Johnson : both his virtues and his defects, his talents and his weaknesses, 
contributed to makehim the king of his circle; and it is less a matter 
of surprise that the hardships of his early life should have left a stamp 
of coarseness and ferocity upon his manners and demeanor, than that 
the causes which made him rough and bearish in argument, and care- 
less of the minor decencies of social intercourse, should never have 
sullied the undeviating purity of his moral principles, nor diminished 
the tenderness of his heart. He was a singular mixture of prejudice 
and liberality, of scepticism and credulity, of bigotry and candor : and 
with that paradoxical strangeness which pervades all his personalitj^, 
we know him better, and admire him more, in the unadorned records 
which Boswell has given of his conversational triumphs, than in those 
rhetorical and elaborate writings which his contemporaries thought so 
magnificent, but which more recent generations seem likely to condemn 
to comparative oblivion. 

§ 9. The name of Edmund Burke (1731-1797) has already occurred 
more than once as connected with Johnson and the accomplished liter- 
ary society of that day. Burke was a man of powerful and versatile 
genuis, carrying the fervor and imagery of a great orator into philo- 
sophical discussion, and uniting in himself the highest qualities of the 
statesman, the writer, and the philosopher. His predominant qualitj' 
was a burning and dazzling enthusiasm for whatever object attracted 
his sympathies, and in the service of this enthusiasm he impressed all 
the dis^plined forces of his learning, his logic, and his historical and 
political knowledge. His mind resembled the Puritan regiments of 



S40 POLITICAL WRITERS. [Chap. XVIII. 

Cromwell, which moved to battle with the precision of machines, while 
burning with the fiercest ardor of fanaticism. His sympathies were 
indeed generally excited bj' generous pity for misfortune, and horror 
at cruelty and injustice; but, as in the case of his rupture with Fox, 
his splendid oratorical display in the impeachment of Warren Hastings, 
and his furious denunciation of the French Revolution, the very excess 
of his tenderness made him cruel, and the vehemence of his detes- 
tation of injustice made him unjust. He was the son of a Dublin 
attorney, came early to England to study law, *but commenced his 
career as a miscellaneous writer in magazines. He was the founder 
and first author of the Annual Register, a. useful epitome of political 
and general facts, and gained his first reputation by his Essay on the 
Sublime and Beautiful^ a short treatise in which ingenuity is more per- 
ceptible than solidity of reasoning, and he became one of the most 
constant and brilliant ornaments of the club where Johnson, Rej^nolds, 
and Goldsmith used to assemble. Burke's powers of conversation 
were most extraordinary; his immense and varied stores of knowledge 
were poured forth in language unequalled for its splendor of illustration ; 
and Johnson, jealous as he was of his own social supremacy, confessed 
that in Burke he encountered a fully equal antagonist. Burke's political 
career commenced as Secretary to Hamilton in Ireland, and he was 
afterwards attached in the same capacity to Lord Rockingham. He 
sat in the House of Commons successively for Wendover, Bristol, and 
Malton, and was one of the most prominent debaters during the agi- 
tated period of the American War and the French Revolution. He 
formed part of more than one ministry, and was successively either in 
power or in opposition in the successive administrations of Rocking- 
ham, North, Grenville, and others. For a short time he held the 
lucrative post of Paymaster of the Forces in the Rockingham cabinet. 
The culminating points of his political life were his share in the famous 
India Bill, which was to entirely change the administration of our 
Eastern dependencies, and in the trial of Warren Hastings, which 
lasted from 1786 to 1795, and terminated with the acquittal of the ac- 
cused. In this majestic and solemn scene, where a great nation sat in 
public judgment upon a great criminal, Burke played perhaps the 
most prominent part : he was one of the managers of the impeachment 
in the name of the Commons, and his speech is one of the sublimest 
philippics that ancient or modern oratory can show. He had heated 
his imagination in contemplating the vast, gorgeous, and picturesque 
nations and history of the East, and his almost morbid philanthropy 
was intensified by the consciousness of his proud position as a defender 
of ancient and oppressed populations before the venerable bar of his- 
tory and the English people. It is curious to observe how gradually 
his speeches and writings increase in vividness of coloring and in 
intensity of passion as he advanced in life : his powerful mind almost 
lost its balance under the shock of that bitter disappointment caused 
by the horrors of the French Revolution, in which his unrivalled'polit- 
ical sagacity could foresee nothing but Mnmingled evil. The Reign of 



A. D. 1731-1797.] JUNIUS, 341 

Terror transformed Burke from a constitutional Whig into a Tory, but 
at the same time animated his genius to some of its most unrivalled 
bursts of eloquence. The close of this great and good man's life was 
melancholy; the loss of his son, a youth of great promise, crushed all 
his hopes, and elicited one of the noblest monuments of pathetic ora- 
tory. His finest written compositions are his Letter to a Noble Lord, 
in which he defends himself against the aspersions of the Duke of 
Bedford, who had attacked him for accepting a pension, his Rejections 
on the French Revolution, and his Letter on a Regicide Peace. In 
Parliament, though his speeches were perhaps unequalled for splendor 
of illustration, for an almost supernatural acuteness of political fore- 
sight, and for the profoundest analysis of constitutional principles, he 
was often less popular than many inferior debaters : he spoke over the 
heads of his audience, but he will ever be regarded as one of the great- 
est orators and statesmen of any age or country. 

§ 10. The last half of the eighteenth century was a very gloomy 
and agitated crisis. The dispute between Great Britain and her Amer- 
ican colonies, the lowering and ominous looming of the great revolu- 
tionary tempest of France, and many internal subjects of dissension 
involving important constitutional questions, rendered the political 
atmosphere gloomy and thunder-charged. From about the beginning 
of 1769, and with occasional interruptions down to 1772, there appeared 
in the " Public Advertiser," one of the leading London journals, then 
published by Woodfall, a series of Letters for the most part signed 
Ju7iius. They exhibited so much weight and dignity of style, and so 
minute an acquaintance with the details of party tactics, and breathed 
such a lofty tone of constitutional principle, combined with such a bit- 
terness, and even ferocity, of personal invective, that their influence was 
unbounded. Government made the most violent, but fruitless eftorts 
to discover the writer, and Woodfall submitted to severe punishment, 
though there is every reason to believe that he too was kept in perfect 
ignorance of the real name of his correspondent. The chief objects of 
the attack of Junius were the Dukes of Grafton and Bedford, and he 
strongly pronounced himself against the infringement of constitutional 
liberty in the expulsion of Wilkes from the House of Commons and the 
seizure of his papers : but the concealed writer does not confine him- 
self to great public questions, but exhibits minute knowledge of dis- 
putes and intrigues in the subordinate department of the War-office, 
and shows all the rancor of a man who felt himself personally ag- 
grieved. The whole annals of political controversy show nothing so 
bitter and terrible as the personalities and invectives of Jtinius, which 
are rendered more formidable by the lofty dignity of the language, and 
by the moderate and constitutional principles which he professes to 
maintain. These letters will always be regarded as masterpieces in 
their particular style. Many eftorts, some very learned, ingenious, 
and elaborate, have been employed to clear up the riddle of the real 
authorship of these letters : but the enigma still remains one of the 
most mysterious in the history of letters. Burke, Hamilton, Francis, 
20* 



842 POLITICAL WRITERS. [Chap. XVIII. 

Ljttelton, and Lord George Sackville, have been successively fixed 
upon as the writer; and the mingled glory and shame — glory for the 
high merits of the composition, and shame for the atrocious spirit of 
calumny — have been transported by successive demonstrations to one 
or to the other. Among the numerous claimants to the doubtful honor 
Sir Fhilip Francis appears to have the strongest suffrages : the opinion 
of Macaulay, whose knowledge of the history of the time was unrivalled, 
is unconditionally in favor of Francis : but a recent investigator has 
brought forward some ingenious arguments in favor of Lyttelton. It 
is hardly probable that this curious and much-vexed question will now 
ever be settled by anything more conclusive than more or less strong 
presumptive evidence; and the authorship of the Letters of Junius 
will remain a singular example of an unsolved political mystery, like 
the Man in the Iron Mask or the Executioner of Charles I. However this 
may be, the letters themselves will ever be a monument of the finest 
but fiercest political invective. 

§ 11. Adam Smith (i 723-1 790) was the founder, in England, of the 
science of Political Economy. He was a Scotchman, and exhibited in 
a high degree that aptitude for moral, metaphysical, and economic 
investigation which seems to be so general in his country. He was 
successively Professor of Logic and of Moral Philosophy in the Uni- 
versity of Glasgow. At one period of his life he lectured with success 
at Edinburgh on rhetoric and belles lettres, and was persuaded to travel 
with the young Duke of Buccleuch, whose education he superintended. 
His most important work is the Inquiry into the Nature and Causes 
of the Wealth of Nations, the fruit of ten years of study and investi- 
gation, and which laid the foundation for modern economic science. 
It was the first systematic treatise produced in England upon a most 
important subject, and though not free from erroneous deductions, was 
the mosL valuable contribution ever made to a science then almost in 
its infancy, and which was destined, thanks in a great measure to his 
clear and logical reasoning and abundant and popular illustration, to 
exert an immense and beneficial influence on legislation and commerce. 
The fundamental principles taught by Adam Smith are chiefly, that 
gold and silver are by no means wealth either to individuals or com- 
munities, being only symbols and conventional representatives of 
value; that labor is the true source of riches, and that any state inter- 
ference with the distribution or production of commodities can only 
aggravate the evils it is intended to cure. He was the first to show, by 
apt and picturesque illustration, the wonderful results of the division 
of labor, both as regards the quantity and quality of the product. His 
moral and metaphysical theories are now nearly forgotten, but his 
Inquiry will ever remain the alphabet or text-book of the important 
science of which he was the pioneer. 

§ 12. Something similar to what Adam Smith performed for political 
economy. Sir William Blackstone (1723-17S0) did for the vast and 
complicated study of the Constitution and the Laws of England. He 
was by profession a la^^yer, though he mingled a strong taste for ele- 



A. D. 1743-1805.] BLACKSTONE. BUTLER. PALET, 343 

gant literature with the graver studies of his profession : and he ulti- 
mately became a Justice of the Common Pleas. His Comme?itarics on 
the Laws of Englatid gave the first example of a systematic work 
combining and popularizing all the elementary and historical knowl- 
edge requisite for the study; and this book, which is written in a smgu- 
larly easy and pleasant style, is the groundwork of every legal education, 
nay, the accidence, so to say, of the grammar of English law. Numer- 
ous editions have been published, bringing up the work to the existing 
state of legal knowledge, and showing such m.odifications as from time 
to time have been made in our legislation; and Blackstone's Co?nmcn- 
taries still continue the best and completest outline of the history and 
principles of English law. The great questions of right and property 
which lie at the bottom of all social organization are lucidly treated, 
and the mingled web of Teutonic, Feudal, Parliamentary, and Ecclesi- 
astical legislation is carefully unravelled and disposed with luminous 
distinctness. 

§ 13. The most prominent names in the English theological philoso- 
phy of the eighteenth century are those of Bishop Butler (1692-1752) 
and William Paley (1743-1805). The former is more remarkable for 
the severe and coherent logic with which he demonstrates his conclu- 
sions, the latter for the consummate skill with' which he popularized 
the abstruser arguments of his predecessors. Butler's principal work 
is his Analogy between Natural a7zd Revealed Religion, in which, neg- 
lecting the question of the historical Credibility of the miracles, he 
examines into the resemblance between the existence and attributes of 
God, as proved by arguments drawn from the works of Nature, and 
shows that that existence and those attributes are in no way incompat- 
ible with the notions conveyed to us by Revelation. The writings of 
Butler have filled the greatest thinkers with admiration, and their study 
has contributed to form some of the most accomplished dialecticians : 
but the closeness of his reasoning, which necessitates an unusual degree 
of attention and a rare faculty of following his analysis, places his 
writings out of tht? reach of ordinary readers. His moral theory is 
mainly based upon the existence, in every mind, of a guiding and test- 
ing principle of conscience, furnishing an infallible and supreme 
criterion of the goodness or wickedness of our actions. 

Manj^ of Butler's arguments are rendered more accessible in the easy 
and animated pages of Paley, who was, like Butler, an ornament of the 
Church. His books are numerous, and all excellent : the principal of 
them are Elements of Moral and Political Philosophy, the Horce 
Paulines, the Evidences of Christia7jity, and the wonderful production 
of his old age, the Treatise on Natural Theology. It will be seen from 
the titles of these books over what an immense extent of moral and 
theological philosophj^ Paley's mind had travelled; for in the first of 
the above books he investigates the principles of human action whether 
exhibited in the individual or the community; in the second he exam- 
ines questions of specific theologj^ by the light of Scripture ; and in the 
third he demonstrates the inherent credibility of the Christian miracles, 



344 POLITICAL WRITERS. [Chap. XVIII. 

and of the inspired narrative of those miracles, defending them against 
the arguments of scepticism, and in particular against the scepticism 
of Hume. The Natural Theology deduces the existence and the benev- 
olence of God from the evidence afforded bj the phenomena of nature 
in favor of design, power, and beneficence : and to supply himself with 
materials, Palej studied physiology, and has described the structure 
and functions of animated beings with a vivacitj^ and a knowledge that 
give him a very honorable place among writers on anatomy. For 
clearness, animation, and easy grace, the style of Paley has rarely been 
eqvialled. 

§ 14. If the palm of merit is to be awarded less to the pretension of 
a literary work than to a universal popularity arising from a consum- 
mate charm of execution, then the fame of Gilbert White (1720-1793) 
is to be coveted little less eagerly than that of Izaak Walton. The 
greater portion of his life was passed in the sequestered village of Sel- 
borne, in Hampshire, which he has immortalized in one of the most 
enchanting books in the world. White was educated at Oxford, where 
he became a student of Christ Church, but succeeding to the living of 
Selborne, which had been held by his father, he devoted his happy and 
tranquil life to the observation of nature. In a series of letters to Pen- 
nant and Daines Barrington, he has registered every phenomenon both 
of animal and vegetable life as well as of scenery and meteorology which 
came under the eye of a most curious, patient, and loving observer, and 
a thousand details so slight or so familiar as to escape the attention of 
previous naturalists, have been chronicled with exquisite grace, arid form 
valuable contributions to science. Every change of weather, every cir- 
cumstance in the habits of birds, beasts, and insects, were noted by him 
with an interest and enthusiasm that captivates the dullest reader; and 
the Natural History of Selbortie has made at least as many naturalists 
as Robinson Crusoe has made sailors. The benevolent playfulness 
which overflows in White's remarks, the pleasant touches of credulity, 
as in his obstinate desire to find proofs that swallows hibernate under 
water, the intense personality with which he is associated with the 
beautiful scenes he loved so well, the ardent fondness for natural objects 
— every feature of his character heightens the charm of this most fas- 
cinating book. 



Chae. XVIII.] NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS 



S45 



NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 



THEOLOGICAL WRITERS. 

Dr. Humpheet Pkibeaux (1648-1724), one of 
the best known aud most valuable theological wri- 
ters, author of the Connection of the Old and New 
Testaments, 1715-17. He was a scholar of great 
research, and professor of Hebrew at Oxf )rd. 

Til. William Nicik)L8<.)N (165.5-1727), an Irish 
prelate and learned anti(|uary, wrote on Border 
Laws, Laws of Anglo-Saxons. In 1706 he produced 
a catalogue of books and JMSS., the Historical Li- 
braries vf England, Scotland, aud Ireland. 

De. Benjamin Hoadley (1670-1761) occupied 
successively the sees of Bangor, Hereford, Salis- 
bury, and Winchester. He espoused the cause of 
the Whigs, and was a great controversialist on the 
more liberal side both in the Church and in politics. 
Ilis chief works were On the Nature of the King- 
dom or Church of Christ, which gave rise to the 
celebrated Bangoriau controversy ; Reasonableness 
of Confnrntit)/ ; I'erms of Acceptance ; Treatise on 
the Sacrament. 

Charles Leslie (1650-1722), a clergyman and 
controversialist, chiefly known for A Short and 
Easy 3tethod with the Deists. The whole of his 
works were published at Oxford in 1832. 

William Wiiiston (1667-1752), a mathematician 
of the school of Xewton, whom he succeeded as 
professor at Cambridge. He was at first a clergy- 
man, but was expelled the Church on account of 
his Arian opinions, became lecturer on astronomy 
in London, aud before his death held the principles 
of the Baptist body, and the millenarian doctrines. 
His chief works are— 7'/(eo/-?/ of the Earth, 1696; 
Essay on the Revelation of St. John, 1706; Sermons, 
1708; Primitive Christia7iil y Revived, 1712; Me- 
moirs, 1749-50. 

Bisnoi" Wakburton (1698-1779), one of the 
celebrated writers of his day ; but the value of his 
works was ephemeral, and, with the exception of 
his Divine Legation of Moses, they are almost for- 
gotten. He was born at Newark, received no educa- 
tion for the Church, yet, by assiduous and brilliant 
use of the pen, obtained presentations to livings, 
and at last was raised to the See of Gloucester. He 
enjoyed the friendship and assistance of the leading 
men of the daj'; but his love of paradox and star- 
tling hypotheses did much to lessen the lasting value 
and influence of his writings. Warburton was a 
man of force and genius, but spoiled his efforts for 
real success by his display and arrogance. A mod- 
ern critic applies Gibbon's epithet of the Legation 
to the life and works of the author: "A splendid 
ruin " — " not venerable from cherished associa- 
tions, but great, unsightly, and incongruous." 

Dr. Rohert Lowtii (1710-1787), successively 
Bishop of St. David's, Oxford, and London, was a 
man of great learning. His chief works are — 
IVanslation of Isaiah and I'relections on Hebrew 
Poetry, the latter being in Latin, delivered by bun 
when he wai Protessor of Hebrew at Oxford. 



Rev. William La-w (1666-1761), a Jacobite 
Nonconformist, whose Serious Call to a Higher 
Life deserves mention, not only from its being popu- 
lar, but also because the reading of it is said by Dr. 
Johnson to have been " the first occasion of hia 
thinking in earnest of religion after he became 
capable of rational inquiry." 

Dr. Richard Watson (1737-1816), Bishop of 
Llandatf, and author of replies to Paine aud Gibbon. 
The Apologies for Christianity and the Bible are 
well known. 

Dr. Samuel Horsley (17.33-1806), Secretaiy of 
the Royal Society, and successively Bishop of St. 
David's, Rochester, and St. Asaph. His principal 
works are translations of the Psalms, and his con- 
troversial writings with Priestley. 

Dr. John Jortin (1698-1770), Prebendary of St. 
Paul's and Archdeacon of London, author of works 
on Ecclesiastical Histoni, 1751-4 ; Life of Erasmus^ 
1758; which are written in a striking, lively style. 

Dr. Richard Hurd (1720-1806), successively 
Bishop of Lichfield and Coventrj', and of AVorces- 
ter, a great friend of Warburton, and an elegant 
scholar, wrote, among other things, Discourses on 
the Prophecies, and a Life of Warburton. 

Dr. George Hoene (1730-1792), Bishop of Nor- 
wich, vrote the well-knowu Comtnentary on the 
Psalms, 1776. 

De. Nathaniel Laedner (1684-1768), a Pres- 
byterian divine, the author of a very learned work 
on The Credibility of the Gospel Histm-y, 1730-57. 
He also wrote a work similar to the above entitled 
A Large Collection of Ancient, Jewish and Heathen 
Testimonies to the Truth of the 6%rt">firtn Religion. 

Dr. Philip Doddridge (1702-1751), one of the 
most distinguished Nonconformist divines. He was 
born in London, was educated among the Dissent- 
ers, became minister at Northampton, and died at 
Lisbon, whither he had departed for the benefit of 
his health. Doddridge was a man of learniiig and 
earnest piety. He was'beloved and admired by all 
the religious bodies of the country. His style is 
plain, simple, and forcible. He was a critic of some 
acumen, and a preacher of great distinction. But 
his name lives from his practical works and exposi- 
tory writings, the chief of which are — Discourses 
on Regeneration, 1741; Rise and Progress of Reli- 
gion in the Soul, 1745; and his greatest and most 
extensive work. The Family Expositor, one of the 
most widely circulated works of its class. 

Dr. George CamprjA^l (1709-1796), Professor 
of Divinity at Aberdeen, was one of the most cele- 
brated of the clergj'inen of the Scotch Church. His 
Dissertation on Miracles was in reply to Hume. 
The Philosophy of Rhetoric is one of the ablest 
works that has appeared on that subject. He also 
wrote A 'I'ranslution of the Four Gospels, and Lec- 
tures on Ecclesiastical History. Few men have 
shown greater skill in polemical writing, comb^ied 
with a gentleness and regard for the opponent ; and 
a modern critic places hiui next to Kobertsou the 



346 



NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. [Chap. XVIII. 



historian at the head of the clergy of the Scottish 
Church. 

The following are authors of works of no high 
literary value, but yet have been of great service iu 
shaping the moral and religious thought of the 
country. 

Geoege Whitefielu (1714-1770). 

JoiOf Wesley (1703-1791), the founder of the 
sect of Wesleyan Methodists, and author of several 
practical works, chiefly honiiletic. 

James Hervey (1714-1758), author of The Medi- 
tations', Ther-on and Aspasin. &c. 

EliENEZEE Ebskine (1680-1754) ; and RALPH 
Eeskine (1685-1752). 

PHILOSOPHICAL WRITERS. 

De. Feancis Hxjtciieson (1694-1747), a native 
of Ireland, studied at Glasgow, and became Pro- 
fessor of jMoral Philosopliy in that University. He 
did much to restore the study of philosophy in Scot- 
land, and is considered as the foumier of the Scotch 
School of Metaphysics. In 1726 he published an 
Inquiry into Beaut;/ and Vi'tue. His chief work 
■was A Syt'tem of Moral rhilosophy, which was 
given to the world by his son after his death. 

De. Matthew Tim>al (1657-1733) turned 
Roman Catholic under James II., but afterwards 
became an unbeliever, and is well known for his 
attack on Christianity, entitled Christianitu as old 
as the Creation. Dr. Tindal's nephew, NICHOLAS 
TiNDAL (1687-1774), was the continuer of the His- 
tory of England left incomplete by Rapin. 

Heney Home, Loed Kames (1696-1782), a law- 
yer, judge, and mental philosopher, resided iu Ed- 
inburgh, and there drew round him many of the 
leading thinkers and writers. His chief works were 
— Essays on the Principles of Morality and Reli- 
gion; Introduction to the Art of Thinking; The 
Elements of Criticism ; Sketches of the History of 
Man ; the last of which works is a collection of 
anecdotes and miscellaneous facts picked up in the 
course of his reading. 

De. Samuel Claeke (1675-1729), one of the 
ablest metaphysicians that England has produced. 
He was a native of Norwich, was educated at Caius 
College, Cambridge, and became chaplain to Bishop 
Moore of Norwich. In 1704 he delivered the Boyle 
Lectures, in which he brought forward his celebrat- 
ed argument a priori for the being of a God, grand 
in conception, but, like all arguments of that class, 
really resting on the d posteriori expressed or im- 
plied. He wrote on the Immateriality and Immor- 
tality of the Soul, and translated yewton's Optics 
into Latin. In 1709 he was presented to the rectory 
of St. James's, and was appointed one of the Queen's 
chaplains. His controversi^ with the Trinitarians 
arose from his espousal of the Arian doctrine in his 
treatise on the Trinity. He defended the Newtonian 
philosophy against Leibnitz, and in 1717 the papers 
were published. In 1724 he publislied seventeen 
sermons, partly metaphysical and partly practical. 
He refused the offer of the Mastership of the Mint in 
1727. He died on the 17th of May. 1729. He h.-.s 
not the extensive grasp and original views of Locke, 
but he exhibits more of the accuracy of the dialec- 
tician. Many of his speculations are too refined. 
Uis moral system, which makes the rule of virtue 



consist in the fitness of things, or a " congruity of 
relations," and neglects the distinction and prior 
discernment of good ends from bad, has been con- 
demned by the Butlerian school and modern moral- 
ists as too limited and confined. Dr. Clarke's style 
is simple, and free from meretricious adornment, 
vigorous, and at times really eloquent, a model of 
philosophical and controversial writing. 

De. Ai>am Feeguson (1724-1816), a native of 
Perthshire, educated at St. Andrew's, Professor of 
Natural and Moral Philosophy in tlie University 
of Edinburgh, author of several works on philoso- 
phy and history, the chief of which are — A History 
of the Roman Republic, 1783 ; Principles of Moral 
and Political Science, 1792. 

James Buenet, Loed Monboddo (1714-1799), 
a Scotch Judge, and an eccentric but learned writer, 
author of an Essay on the Origin and Progress of 
Language, 1771-3, and a H'ork on Ancient Meta- 
physics, 1779. Monboddo is btst known for his 
theory of mankind having at one time possessed 
tails like other monkeys, but which by a long course 
of sitting have been worn away. 

David Haeti.ey (170,5-1757), was educated at 
Jesus College, Ca^nbridge, and practised medicine. 
He was the founder of a school embracing at one 
time a large number of English thinkers. He ex- 
plained the various states of the mind by the prin- 
ciple of association. His chief work was Observa- 
tions on Man, Sfc, which appeared in 1749. 

De. Richaed Peice (1723-1791), a Nonconform- 
ist minister and writer on morals, who endeavored 
in his Review of the Principal Questions and Diffi- 
culties in Morah, 1758, to revive the Cudworth 
school, which traced moral obligation to the per- 
ceptions of tlie understanding. He wrote several 
able works on financial subjects, and was invited by 
the United States, in 1778, to settle in America, in 
order to assist them iu regulating their finances. 
He was a warm advocate of civil and religious lib- 
erty, and is best known in the history of literature 
by the attack made upon him by Burke, in his 
Reflections on the Revolution in France. 

Abeaha.m Tucker (1705-1774), an English 
country-gentleman, who devoted himself to meta- 
physical studies. . He held for the most part the 
Hartleian doctrines, and received the praise of Paley 
and Mackintosh. His celebrated work was entitled 
The Light of Xature Pursued, 1768. 

De. Joseph Priestley (1733-1804), an eminent 
Nonconformist minister, who went over from the 
Calvinistic school of theology to the Unitarian. He 
was settled in Birmingham for some time, and it 
was there that the rioters set fire to his house at the 
time of the French Revolution in 1791. His philo- 
sophical opinions were opposed to the Scotch school. 
In Matter and Spirit (1777) he inclined to material- 
ism and necessity. A large number of tracts issued 
from his pen, which was ever kept at work from the 
assiduity of his opposers. Priestley shines most, 
however, in experimental physics. He was one of 
the fathers of chemistry, and made several discov- 
eries in relation to light and color. He left England 
for America in 1794, and died in Northuml Brland, 
Pennsylvania, in 1804. 

De. Tno.MAS Reit> (1710-1796), one of the found- 
ers of the Scotch School of Metaphysics, was & 
Prosbytcriau clergjiuan, and Professor of Moral 



Chap. XVIII.] NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS, 



847 



PhUosophy, first at King's College, Aberdeen, and 
afterwards at Glasgow, where he succeeded Adam 
Smith. His Inquiry into the Human Mind (1704) 
■was directed against the ideal system, and the scep- 
ticism of Hume. In 1785 he published his Essni/s 
on the Intellectual Powers, and iu 1788 his E)>says 
on the Active Power of the Human Hind. 

DVGALD Stewaet (1753-1828), a pupil of Reid, 
whose philosophical system he adopted and taught 
■with great elegance of style, was Professor of Moral 
Philosophy in the University of Edinburgh from 
1785 to 1810. His Elements of the Philosophy of the 
Human Mind appeared in 1792, and his Philosoph- 
ical Essays, on which his fame chiefly rests, in 
1810. Sir James Mackintosh remarks that " it is in 
Essays of this kind that Stewart has most surpassed 
other cultivators of mental philosophy. His re- 
marks on the effect of casual associations may be 
quoted as a specimen of the most original and just 
thoughts conveyed in the best manner." 

Dk. Thomas Beown (1778-1820), who properly 
belongs to the next century, is mentioned here on 
account of his close connection with Reid and Stew- 
art. He succeeded the latter in the clialr of Modern 
pliilosophy at Edinburgh in 1810. As a philoso- 
pher he was distinguished by the power of analysis. 
He was also the author of several poems which are 
now forgotten. 

HISTORIANS AND SCHOLARS. 

LOET> Lyttelton (1709-1773), the first lord of 
this title, and Chancellor of the Exchequer in 1756, 
is the author of a History of Henry II. (1761-1767), a 
work of learning and research, but is perhaps best 
known by his Observations on the Conversion of St. 
ruul. His poetry has gained for him a place in 
Johnson's Lives, but it is of slender merit. 

TUOMAS Carte (1686-1754), the author of a His- 
tory of England, coming <iown to 1654, and a Life 
of the Duke of Ormond, was a strong Jacobite in 
politics. 

De. Contees Midbleton (1683-1750), librarian 
of the University of Cambridge, and one of the 
opponents of the celebrated Bentley. Indeed, he is 
said to have been the only adversary whom Bentley 
really feared. When the latter was deprived of his 
degree by the Uni\-ersity, Middleton addressed to 
him a letter entitled "The Rev. Richard Bentley, 
latel). D." Middleton is now best known for his 
Life of Cicero — a work of research, and written in 
an elegant and perspicuous style ; but he also wrote 
several works on ecclesiastical history. His Free 
Inquiry into the iliraculuus Powers possessed by the 
Christian Church advocates many of the views 
adopted by what is called the school of the modern 
Rationalists. 

LOEn Heevey (1696-1743), the author of Memoirs 
of tfie Reign of George II., published first in 1848, 
'under the editorship of Mr. Croker, Hervey was in 
constant attendance upon Queen Caroline, the wife 
of George 11., was a friend of Lady Mary Wortley 
Montagu, and the object of Pope's severest satire, by 
the name of Sporus. 

The Universal History, in 23 vols., was completed 
ill 1760, under the care of Bower, Campbell, Wil- 
liam Guthrie, and Psalmanazar. Goldsmith wrote 
a preface f'^r it, and received three guineas for the 
task. I 



W^ILLIAM Tytleb (1711-1792), the father of Al- 
exander Fraser Tytler, the author of Elements of 
General History, was himself the author of an In- 
quiry into the Evidence aijainst Mary Queen of 
Scots, and an Examination into the JUstoriea of 
Robertson and Hume. 

Dk. Tiio.mas Bieoii (1705-1766), a clergyman, 
was the author of many laborious historical works, 
relating to modern history. He also published a 
General Dictionary, Historical and Critical, and 
edited Thurloe's State Papers. 

De. Robekt Henby (1718-1790), a native of 
Stirlingshire, and clergyman in Edinburgh, pub- 
lished a History of Great Britain, which was popu- 
lar in its day. It extended to the reign of Henry 
VIII., and treated at some extent, with the inter- 
nal events, the manners and customs of the people. 

De. Pottee (1674-1747), born at Wakefield in 
Yorkshire, educated at University College, Oxford,* 
Archbishop of Canterbury, best known for his work 
on the Antiquities of Greece, which was for along 
time the chief autligrity on the subject. 

Basil Kennett (1674-1714) was educated at 
Oxford, and became English chaplain at Leghorn; 
is known for his work on Roman Antiquities. 

Richaed Pokson (1759-1808), was born in Nor- • 
folk, of humble parents, but became one of the 
greatest Greek scholars of the country, and in 1790 
was appointed Greek Professor at Cambridge. Be- 
sides his well-known contributions to classical liter- 
ature, Porson deserves a place in English literature, 
on account of the admirable style of his Letters to 
Archdeacon Travis (1790) upon the disputed verse 
in 1 John v. 7. His A'lrersuria were published 
after his death by Monk and Blomfield. 

JOHN Louis De Lolme (1740-1806), published 
in 1775 a work on the Constitution of England. It 
was of value and an authority in its day, but is now 
supplanted by more modern works. Its interest to 
the student of English literature arises from the ease 
and skill with which amative of Geneva wrote oui 
language. 

Mes. Cathaewe Macaulay (1733-1791), the 
wife of a physician, called by Walpole " the hen- 
brood of faction," was the authoress of the cele- 
brated Republican HUtory of England during the 
Stuart Dynasty. This work received considerable 
attention at the time. It is of no great historical 
value, but the style is vigorous and popular. Mrs. 
Macaulay crossed the Atlantic and had an inter\iew 
with George Washington. She even ventured to 
measure her strength against Burke, and attacked 
his work on tlie French Revolution. 

William Roscoe (1753-1831) was born in Liver- 
pool, and spent his early years at the desk of an 
attorney. In 1806 he was chosen member of Parlia- 
ment, but soon retired from public life, and steadily 
refused all applications which were made him to 
return. In 1796 he published The Life of Lorenzo 
de Medici, which was one of the most popular works 
of the day. The style was easy, graceful, and pleas- 
ing. Leo X., which was published in 1805, did not 
attain the same popularity. There were questions 
of a most delicate nature to be discussed; the refor- 
mation presented points of deepest interest to Papist 
and to Protestant, and the historian had to guard 
against offending either party. 
Natuakisl HooiCE (d. 1764), a Roman Cath- 



348 



NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. [Chap. XVIII. 



olie, and a friend of Pope, the author of a Roman 
History, which was for a long time the standard 
work on the suhject, but is deficient in criticism, 
and is now entirely superseded. Hooke was a warm 
partisan of the plebeians in their struggles with tiie 
patricians. 

Jacob Bryant (1715-1804), secretary to the Duke 
of 3Iarlborough, who gave him a lucrative place in 
the Ordnance Office, was the author of several works 
on classical and mythological subjects. His fancy 
carried him often too far in paradox and specula- 
tion, but he established and defended his theories 
with great ingenuity and research. His leading 
works were A New Si/stein or Analysis of Ancient 
M.thology, 1774-76; On the Plain of Troy, 1795; 
and On the Trojan War, 1796. 

GiLBEKT Wakefield (1756-1801), a well-known 
writer on divinity, and a classical scholar. He left 
tl\e church from Unitarian views, and published a 
translation of the New Testament, and a work on 
the Evidences of Christianity, in answer to Paine. 
He was found guilty of libel in his reply to the 
Bishop of Llandaff in defence of the revolution in 
France, and imprisoned for two years. He was a 
hasty but honest man, " as violent against Greek 
accents as he was against the Trinity, and anathema- 
tized the final v as strongly as episcopacy." 

©B. GiLBEKT Stuart (1742-1786), born in Ed- 
inburgh, was an active writer in the Reviews, in 
which he attacked many of his contemporaries with 
extreme bitterness. He wrote a History of the Ref- 
ormation of Religion in Scotland, and a History 
of Scotland, in which he vehemently attacks Rob- 
ertson. 

DR. Warner (d. 1767) and Dr. Leland (1722- 
1785) published histories of Ireland. The latter 
was author of the well-known translation of De- 
mosthenes. 

The History of Manchester, and Vindication of 
Mary Qiieen of Scots, by JOHN WuiTAKEK (1735- 
1808), deserve a passing mention. 

Rev. James Granger's (d. 1776) Biographical 
History of England, which was continued by Noble, 
may still be consulted with advantage. 

James Macpiiekson (17.'18-1796), mentioned in 
the next chapter in connection with the poems of 
Ossian (p. 394), appeared as an historian and defender 
of the Tories in his History of Great Britain from 
the Restoration to the Accession of the House of 
Hanover, 1775, a work of some value from the pri- 
vate history which it reveals. 

Lord Hailes, Sir David Dalrymple (1726- 
1792), was a well-known lawyer and judge, a man 
of great erudition, and author of Annals of Scotland, 
published in 1776, and other legal and historical 
works. 

Robertson's History of Charles V. was continued 
by ROBERT Watson (d. 1780), Professor of Logic 
at St. Andrew's, in a History of Philip IL, a work 
of no merit. 

Dr. William Russell (1741-1793), born at 
Selkirk, the author of a history of Modern Europe, 
■which is now superseded by Mr. Dyer's. 

Malcolm Laing (1762-1818), born in Orkney, 
which he represented for some time in Parliament, 
wrote a History of Scotland, fropi the Union of the 
Crowns on the accession of James VI. to the throne 



of England, to the Union of the Kingdoms in the 
reign of Queen Anne. 

John Pinkekton (1758-1826), bom in Edin- 
burgh, a laborious and learned writer, the author 
of numerous works, among which may be mentioned 
a History of Scotland, Modern Geography, Voyages 
and Travels, &c. 

MISCELLANEOUS WRITERS. 

Philip Dormer Stanhope, Eakl of Ches- 
terfield (1694-1773), was one of the most accom- 
plished men in the Court of the Georges, but his 
only lasting contribution to literature is his Letters 
containing advice to his son. The style is agreea- 
ble, but the moral tone is low; Dr. Johnson said it 
taught the morals of a courtesan and the manners 
of a dancing-master; but something of this severity 
must be set down to the relation which subsisted 
between Johnson and Chesterfield. The speeches, 
essays, &c., with memoir of Chesterfield, were pub- 
lished by Dr. Maty, in 1774. The copyright of Ches- 
terfield's Letters realized 1500?., and in the year 
succeeding their publication five editions were dis- 
tributed. 

Thomas Amory (1693-1789), a native of Ireland, 
was educated as a physicl n, and resided in West- 
minster. As a writer h-i is humorous, but pedantic. 
His chief works were — J/emoiVs, containing the 
Lines of several Ladies of Great Britain, 1755; and 
the Life of John Buncle, Esq., 1756-66. This last is 
in the form of an autobiography, full of humor, 
quotation, and thought, reminding the reader of 
Burton's quaint work. 

Sir William Jones (1746-1794), a celebrated 
Oriental scholar, and the author of many works in 
various branches of literature, was the son of a 
mathematician of some eminence. He was edu- 
cated at Harrow, and University College, Oxford, 
was called to the bar in 1774, and was appointed in 
1783 a judge of the Supreme Court at Calcutta, 
where he died in 1794, after a residence of eleven 
years. He was one of the first Europeans who stud- 
ied Sanskrit, and he contributed many valuable 
papers to the " Asiatic Researches." While in India 
he translated from the Sanskrit Sacuntald, a dra- 
matic poem by Kalidasa, and the HitopacJisa, a 
collection of fables. He has obtained a place among 
the English poets on account of two small volumes 
of poems, containing a few original pieces, and 
several translations from the Eastern writers. 

John Hoene Tooke (1736-1812) was born in 
London, son of a poulterer named Home. He re- 
ceived his education at Westminster, Eton, and St 
John's, Cambridge. He entered the church, but 
threw himself into the great political struggles of 
those days, and wrote in 1765 in favor of Wilkes, 
In 1773 he resigned his preferment in the church, in 
order to study for the bar, but the benchers refused 
to call him because he was a clergyman. Mr. 
Tooke, of Purley, whose name he afterwards 
adopted, left him his fortune. In 1794 he was tried 
for high treason, and was defended by Erskine. In 
1796 he was returned to Parliament as member for 
Westminster, and again in 1801 for Saram. The 
declining j'cars of his life were passed at Wimble- 
don, a literary retreat, whither friends often resorted 
to enjoy the hospitality, humor, and philosophy of 



Chap. XVIII. ] NO TES AND ILL USTh A TIONS. 



349 



the hale and witty old man. He wrote The Diver- 
sions of furlcy, 1786-1805, a series of dialogues upon 
language. He reduces all parts of speech to nouns 
and verbs. The book should be carefully consulted 
by every student of the English language, but many 
of the etymologies are fanciful and far-fetched. 

De. John LA>fGnOKNE (1735-1779) was born in 
Westmoreland, and held a living in Somersetshire. 
He was a preacher of some popularity, and author 
of some tales and poems, and with his brother pub- 
lished a translation of Plutarch's Lives. 

Dr. Richard Farmer (1735-1797), Master of 
Emmanuel College, Cambridge, published in 17G6 
an Essay on the Learning of ShaJcsjieare, which 
iiscussed with some skill the historic and classic 
authorities of the great dramatist. 

Another celebrated Shakspearian critic was 
George Steevens (1736-1800), who was joint 
editor with Johnson of the edition of Shakspeare 
published in 1773. He afterwards remodelled the 
text, and brought out a new edition in 1793, in 
which he took great liberties with the text. 

The chief rival of Stee vens was Edmonp Malone 
(1741-1812), who had previously contributed some 
notes to Steevens's earlier edition of Shakspeare, but 
brought out one of his own in 1790. His posthu- 
mous edition was published by Boswell in 1821, in 
twenty-one volumes. Malone had not Steevens's 
ability, but was a more cautious editor, and paid 
more respect to the text of the first folio. 



During the latter part of the eighteenth century 
some of the most interesting English travels were 
published. Uhe chief writers were, — 

Lord Macartney (1737-1806) and 

Sir George L. Staunton (1737-1801), whose 
mission to China was narrated in two interesting 
works, Macartney's Journal and Staunton's Account 
of the Embassy. 

The two greatest names, however, are those of 
James Bruce (1730-1794), who penetrated far into 
Abyssinia and Central Africa in search of the 
source of the Nile ; and 

MUNGO Park (1771-1805), whose litfe-'ary achieve- 
ments are far greater than those of Bruce. Park 
was drowned whilst escaping from an attack of the 
natives, but his second narrative was preserved, and 
published posthumously in 1815. 

NOVELISTS. 

Frances Sheridan (1724-1766), mother of Rich- 
ard Brinsley Sheridan, was authoress of Now j ah ad 
and Sidney BidduJph, and two comedies not so able 
as the novels, entitled The Discovery and The Dupe. 
Sidney Biddxtlph was greatly admired by Dr. 
Johnson. 

Mrs. Charlotte Lennox (1720-1804), author- 
ess of the once popular novels, Harriot Stuart^ 
1751 ; and the Female Quixote, 1752. 



850 THE DAWN OF ROMANTIC POETRY. [Chap. XIX. 



CHAPTER XIX. 

THE DA\VN OF ROMANTIC POETRY. 

{ I. Revolution in popular taste. The Minstrel of Beattie. The Grave by 
Blair. The Spleen by Green. § 2. James Thomson. The Seasons. The 
Castle of Indolence. Ode to Liberty. Tragedy of Sophonisba. § 3. The 
Schoolmistress of Shenstone. The Odes of Collins. The Pleasures of the 
Imagination by Akenside. § 4. Thomas Gray. Ode on Eton College. El- 
egy written in a Country Churchyard. Pindaric Odes. § 5. Joseph and 
Thomas Warton. History of English Poetry. § 6. William Cowper. 
His life. The Task, Table-Talk, Tirocinium, Translation of Homer. Charac- 
teristics of his poetry. § 7. Poems of a technical character. The Shipwreck 
by Falconer. Loves of the Plants by Daravin. § 8. Literary forgeries. 
Macpherson's Ossiayi. ^ 9. Chatterton's forgeries. Ireland's forgeries. 
§ 10. George ^RABBE. His life and writings. ^ 11. Robert Burns. His 
life and writings. ^ 12. John Wolcot, better known as Peter Pindar. 
§ 13. History of the Comic Drama from the middle of the eighteenth century. 
Garrick, Foote, Cumberland, the two Colmaj^s, and Sheridan. The 
Rivals, the School for Scandal, the Critic, and the Rehearsal. 

§ 1. The great revolution in popular taste and sentiment which sub- 
stituted what is called the romantic type in literature for the cold and 
clear-cut artificial spirit of that classicism which is exhibited in its high- 
est form in the writings of Pope was, like all powerful and durable 
movements, whether in politics or in letters, gradual. The mechanical 
perfection of the poetry of the age of Qiieen Anne had been imitated 
with such success that every versifier had caught the trick of melody 
and the neat antithetical opposition of thought; and indications soon 
began to be perceptible of a tendency' to seek for subjects and forms of 
expression in a wider, more passionate, and more natural sphere of na- 
ture and emotion. In the Miusfre^ of Jamrs Beattie (i735-*i8o3), in 
the striking meditative lines entitled T/ie Grave by Robert Blair 
(1699-1746), this tendencj' is perceptible, and may be in some measure 
ascribed to the weariness inspired by the eternal repetition of the neat and 
epigrammatic ingenuity which had gradually become a mere far-off echo 
of Pope. fcTnder the influence of this weariness, poets began to seek 
for materials in a more direct and picturesque reproduction of nature, 
and endeavored to give freshness to their diction by rebaptizing it in 
the deep and sparkling fountains of our older literature. 

The principal agent, however, in this revolution was Bishop Percy, 
whose publication in 1765 of \.\iQ. Reliques of Ancient English Poetry, 
of which I shall speak more fully in the next chapter, showed the world 
what treasures of beauty, pathos, and magnificence la>#»uried in the 
old Minstrel ballads of the Middle Ages. In the poets who will form 
the subject of this chapter, extending from Thomson to Burns, we shall 



A. D. 1700-1748.] JAMES TITOMSOir. 351 

see how gradual the movement was. I cannot omit all mention of 
Matthew Green (1696-1737), whose pleasant and truly original poem 
T/ie Spleen was written to point out the mode of remedying that insup- 
portable species of moral depression. It is written in easy octosyllabic 
verse, and contains a multitude of passages where new ideas are ex- 
pressed in singularly felicitous images. The prevailing tone is cheer- 
ful and philosophic, and is highly honorable not only to the talents 
but to the principles of the author. Green was originally a dissenter, 
but his work shows no traces of sectarian gloom and narrow-minded- 
ness. He is said to have been himself a sufferer from the malady he 
describes, which was long satirically supposed to be peculiarly common 
in England : and, like Burton, he wrote on melancholy to divert his 
mind from its sufferings. 

§ 2. James Thomson (1700-1748) is the poet who connects the age 
of Pope with that of Crabbe, and it is delightful to think of the sjon- 
pathy and appreciation shown to his gorgeous and picturesque genius 
by the former of these great writers, who hailed his appearance with 
warm admiration. Thomson was born in a rural and retired corner 
of Scotland, in 1700, and after receiving his education at Edinburgh, 
came to London, as Smollett had done before him, " smit with the love 
of sacred song," and eager to try his fortune in a literary career. He 
carried with him the unfinished sketch of his poem of Winter, which 
he showed to his countryman Mallet, then enjoying some authority as 
a critic, and was advised by him to complete and publish it. Thomson 
at first adopted the profession of private tutor, and was intrusted with 
the care of the son of Lord Binning, after which he entered the family 
of the Chancellor Talbot, and travelled with the son of that dignitar}' 
in Italy. The poem of Winter appeared in 1726, and was received with 
great favor, obtaining the warm suffrages of Pope, then supreme in the 
literary world, and who not only gave advice to the young aspirant, bvit 
even corrected and retouched several passages in his works. Siunmer 
was given to the world in the succeeding year, and Thomson then 
without delay issued proposals for the completion of the whole cycle 
of poems, Sj)rin or and Autumn being still wanting to fill up the round 
of the Seasons. The patronage of Talbot, by conferring on Thomson 
a place in the Chancellor's gift, assisted the poet in attaining indepen- 
dence; but losing this post on the death of the minister, its loss was 
afterwards supplied first with one, and afterwards ^vith another sinecure 
post which soon placed the poet out of the reach of difRculty. Though 
somewhat sensual and extraordinarily indolent and self-indulgent, 
Thomson was not devoid of the prudence so general among his coun- 
trj-men. He purchased a snug cottage near Richmond, and lived in 
modest luxury and literary ease. He was of an extremely kind and 
generous disposition, and his devotion to his relations is an amiable 
trait in his character : he was also generally loved, and does not appear 
to have had a single enemy or ill-wisher. His death was premature; 
for, catching cold in a boating-party on the Thames, he died of a fever 
in the forty-eighth year of his age. During the years of his happy 



352 TUE DAWN OF ROMANTIC POETRY. [Chap. XIX. 

i-etirement he had not only revised and corrected innumerable passages 
of his Scasofis, but had time to compose his delightful half-serious, 
half-plajful poem of the Castle of Indolence, the most enchanting of 
the many imitations of the style and manner of Spenser, and a work 
which, at the same time, possesses the finest qualities of Thomson's 
own natural genius. He was also the author of a somewhat declama- 
tory and ambitious poem on the tempting but impracticable subject of 
Liberty, and of a few tragedies, some of which, as Sop/ionisba, were 
acted with temporary success. The Seasons, consisting of the foui 
detached poems. Spring, Summer, Autumn, and Winter, must be con- 
sidered as the corner-stone of Thomson's literary fame. It is a poem, 
in plan and treatment, entirely original, and gives a general, and at 
the same time a minute description of all the phenomena of Nature 
during an English year. Perhaps the very uncertainty of our climate, 
by giving greater variety to our scenery and greater vicissitudes to our 
weather than can be seen in more apparently favored countries, as 
Italy or Greece, was favorable to Thomson's undertaking, which could 
hardly have prospered in the hands of a poet who might have been 
born in more genial climes. It is certain that he has watched every 
fleeting smile or frown on the ever-changing face of Nature with a 
loving and an observant eye : there is hardly a phase of external 
appearance, hardly an incident in the great drama of the seasons, 
which he has not depicted with consummate success. He is especially 
happy in sketching the manners of birds and domestic animals ; and 
every line of his poem breathes an ardent benevolence and a deep sense 
of the majesty and goodness of God. The metre is blank-verse, which, 
though seldom showing anything of the Miltonic swell or tenderness, 
is rich and harmonious, Thomson's chief defect is a kind of pompous 
struggle after fine language, which sometimes degenerates into ludi- 
crous vulgarity. In order to relieve the monotony of a poem entirely 
devoted to description, he has occasionally introduced episodes or inci- 
dental pictures more or less naturally suggested by the subject. Thus, 
in his Winter he gives the famous description of the shepherd losing 
his way and perishing in the snow, in Summer the story of Musidora 
bathing, in Autiunn the narrative of Lavinia, which is borrowed, and 
spoiled in the borrowing, from the exquisite pastoral story of Ruth and 
Boaz. In such of these episodes as involve the passion of love, it must 
be confessed that Thomson's mode of delineating that feeling is far 
rni»re ardent than ideal. In point of literary finish the Castle of Indo- 
lence is superior to the Seasons. The idea and treatment of this poem 
are Spenserian ; and the versification, borrowed from the languid and 
dreamy melody of the Fairie ^ueene, corresponds admirably with the 
rich and luxurious imagery in which Thomson revelled. The allegory 
of the enchanted " Land of Drowsihead," in which the unhappy vic- 
tims of Indolence find themselves hopeless captives, and their delivery 
from durance by the Knight Industry, whose pedigree and training are 
given in an exact imitation of Spenser's manner, are relieved with 
occasional touches of a sly and pleasant humor, as in those passages 



A. D. 1714-1763.] SHENSTONE. COLLINS. 353 

Avhere Thomson has drawn portraits of himself and of his friend. 
Hardij has Spenser himself surpassed the rich and dreamy loveliness 
or the voluptuous melody of the description of the enchanted Castle 
and its gardens of delight, and the strains of the yEolian harp, then 
a recent invention, are described in stanzas whose music forms a most 
appropriate echo to its harmonies. 

§ 3. A passing notice will suffice for William Shenstone (1714- 
1763), whose popularity, once considerable, has now given place to 
oblivion, but whose pleasing and original poem the Schoolmistress 
will deserve to retain a place in every collection of English verse. He 
is still more remarkable as having been one of the first to cultivate that 
picturesque mode of laying out gardens, and developing by well- 
concealed art the natural beauties of scenery, which, under the name 
of the English style, has supplanted the majestic but formal manner of 
Italy, France, and Holland. In the former Nature is followed and 
humored, in the latj^ she is forced. The Schoolmistress is in the 
Spenserian stanza and antique diction, and with a delightful mixture of 
quaint playfulness and tender description, paints the dwelling, tho? 
character, and the pursuits of an old village dame who keeps a rustic 
day-school. The Pastoral ballads of Shenstone are melodious, but 
the thin current of natural feeling which pervades them cannot make 
the reader forget the improbability of the Arcadian manners, such as 
never existed in any age or country, or the querulous and childish tone 
of thought. 

The career of William Collins (1721-1759) was brief and unhappj'. 
He exhibited from very early years the strong poetical powers of a 
genius which, ripened by practice and experience, would have made 
him the first lyrical writer of his age ; but his ambition w^s rather 
feverish than sustained; he led a life of. projects and dissipation ; and 
the first shock of literary disappointment drove him to despondency, 
despondency to indulgence, and indulgence to insanity. This gifted 
being died at thirty-eight, after suffering the crudest affliction and 
humiliation that can oppress humanity. He was educated at Win- 
chester School, and afterwards at Magdalen College, Oxford, and 
entered upon the career of professional literature, full of golden dreams, 
and meditating vast projects. His first publication was a series of 
Eclogues, transferring the usual sentiments of pastoral to the scenery 
and manners of the East. Oriental, or Persian, incidents were for the 
first time made the subjects of compositions retaining in their form 
and general cast of thought and language the worn-out type of pastoral. 
Thus the lamentation of the shepherd expelled from his native fields is 
replaced by a camel-driver bewailing the dangers and solitude of his 
desert journey ; and the dialogues so frequent in the bucolics of Virgil 
or Theocritus are transfoi-med into the amoebtean complaints of two 
C'ircassian exiles. The national character and sentiments of the East, 
though every effort is made by the poet to give local coloring and appro- 
priate costume and scenery, are in no sense more true to nature than 
in the majority of pictures representing the fabulous Arcadia of the 
30* 



354 THE DAWN OF ROMANTIC POETRY. [Chap. XIX. 

poets, and though these eclogues exhibit traces of vivid imagery, and 
melodious verse, the real genius of Collins must be looked for in his 
Odes. Judged bj these latter, though they are but few in number, he 
will be found entitled to a very high place : for true warmth of color- 
ing, power of personification, and dreamy sweetness of harmony, no 
English poet had till then appeared that could be compared to Collins 
His most commonly quoted lyric is the ode entitled Tke Passiojis, in 
which Fear, Rage, Pity, Joy, Hope, Melancholy, and other abstract 
qualities are successively introduced trying their skill on different 
musical instruments. Their respective choice of these, and the manner 
in which each Passion acquits itself, is very ingeniously conceived. 
Nevertheless, many of the less popular odes, as that addressed to Fear, 
to Pify, to Simplicity, and that On the Poetical Character, contain 
happy strokes, sometimes expressed in wonderfully laconic language, 
and singularly vivid portraiture. Collins poaiKSsed, to an unusual 
di^ree, the power of giving life and personality to an abstract con- 
ception, and that this power is exceedingly rare may be seen by the 
predominant coldness and pedantry which generally pre^^ail in modern 
lyric poetrv, whex-e personification has been abused till it has become a 
mere mechanical artifice. In Collins the prosopopoeia is always fresh 
and vivid. In the unfinished Ode on tke Superstitions of the Highlands 
there are many fine touches of fancy and description ; but the reader 
cannot divest himself of a consciousness that the pictures are rather 
transcripts from books than vivid reflection from personal knowledge. 
Collins writes of the Highlands and their inhabitants not like a native, 
but like an English hunter after the picturesque. Some of the smaller 
and less ambitious lyrics, as the Verses to the Memory of Thomson, the 
Dirge in Cymbeline, and the exquisite verses How sleep the brave, are 
perhaps destined to a more certain immortality : for a tender, luxuriant 
richness of reverie, perhaps there is nothing in the English language 
that surpasses them. All the qualities of Collins's finest thought and 
expression will be found united in the lovely little Ode to Evening, 
consisting of but a few stanzas in blank verse, but so subtly harmonized 
that they may be read a thousand times without observing the absence 
of rhyme, and exhibiting such a sweet, soothing, and yet picturesque 
series of images, all appropriate to the subject, that the sights and 
sounds of evening seem to be reproduced with a magical fidelity. The 
whole poem seems dropping with dew and breathing the fragrance of 
the hour. It resembles a melody of Schubert. 

Mark Akenside (1721-1770) is one of the examples, so frequent in 
the English literature of the last age, of the united worship of Medi- 
cine and Poetry. Like Arbuthnot, Garth, Smollett, and Blackmore, 
he was a physician as well as a writer, and a man of considerable 
learning, as well as of pure, lofty, and classical turn of genius. His 
chief work is the philosophical poem entitled The Pleasures of the Im- 
agination, in which he seeks at once to investigate and illustrate the 
emotions excited by beautiful objects in art and nature upon the human 
mind. Like the still nobler poem of Lucretius, the philosophical merit 



A.D. 1716-1771] AKENSIDE, GRAY. 355 

of his theories is very often but small ; but the beauty of the imagery 
and the language will ever secure for this lofty, thoughtful, and noble 
work, the admiration of 'those readers who can content themselves 
with elevated thoughts, without looking for passages of strong human 
interest, in which Akenside is deficient. He wrote in musical and 
sonorous blank verse, reminding the reader of Thomson; but he is less 
sensuous, less vivid, and less picturesque, than the latter, and at the 
same time less liable to offend against severe principles of taste in dic- 
tion. The abstract nature of his subject will confine his readers to a 
small number, but the beauty and dignity of his illustrations will com- 
pensate them for the cold and sculptural character of his writings. 
Few English poets, since Milton, have been more deeply saturated with 
the spirit of classical antiquity', which is partly to be attributed, as in 
the case of the author of Paradise Lost, to very extensive learning, 
and partly to that Puritan spirit of haughty resistance -to authority 
which filled the minds of both with, splendid dreams of liberty a^J 
tyrannicide. 

§4. The greatest of the exclusively lyrical poets that England had 
hitherto produced was Thomas Gray (1716-1771), a man of vast and 
varied acquirements, and whose life was devoted to the cultivation of 
letters. He was the son of a respectable London monej^-scrivener, but 
his father was a man of violent and arbitrary character, and the poet 
was early left to the tender care of an excellent mother, who had been 
obliged to separate from her tyrannical husband. He received his edu- 
cation at Eton, and afterwards settled in learned retirement at Cam- 
bridge, where he passed nearly the whole of his life. He travelled in 
France and Italy as tutor to Horace Walpole, but quarrelling with his 
pupil he returned home alone. Fixing himself at Cambridge, he soon 
acquired a high poetical reputation by his beautiful Ode on a Distajit 
Prospect of Eton College, published in 1747, which was followed, at 
pretty frequent intervals, by his other imposing and highly-finished 
works, the Elegyivritten in a Country Churchyard, the Pindaric Odes, 
and the far from numerous but splendid productions which make up 
his works. His quiet and studious retirement was only broken by 
occasional excursions to the North of England, and other holiday jour- 
neys, of which he has given in his letters so vivid and animated a 
description. His correspondence with his friends, and particul-arly 
with the poet Mason, is remarkable for interesting details, descriptions, 
and reflections, and is indeed, like that of Cowley, among the most 
delightful records of a thoughtful and literary life. Gray refused the 
offer of the Laureateship, which was proposed to him on the death of 
Cibber, but accepted the appointment of Professor of Modern History 
in the University, though he never performed the functions of that . 
chair, his fastidious temper and indolent self-indulgence keeping him 
perpetually engaged in forming vast literary projects which he never 
executed. He appears not to have been popular among his colleagues; 
his haughty, retiring, and somewhat effeminate character prevented 
him from sympathizing with the taste' and studies that prevailed there; 



356 THE DAWN OF RO 31 ANTIC POETRY. [Chap. XIX 

and he was at little pains to conceal his contempt for academical soci* 
etj. His industry was untiring, and his acquirements undoubtedlj; 
immense; for he had pushed his researches far beyond the usual limits 
of ancient classical philology, and was not' only deeply versed in the 
romance literature of the Middle Ages, in modern French and Italian, 
but had studied the then almost unknown departments of Scandinavian 
and Celtic poetry. Constant traces may be found in all his works of 
the degree to which he had assimilated the spirit not only of the Greek 
lyric poetry, but the finest perfume of the great Italian writers : many 
passages of his works are a kind of mosaic of thought and imagery 
borrowed from Pindar, from the choral portions of the Attic tragedy, 
and from the majestic lyrics of the Italian poets of the sixteenth and 
seventeenth centuries : but though the substance of these mosaics may 
be borrowed from a multitude of sources, the fragments are, so to say, 
fused into one solid body by the intense flame of a powerful and fer- 
vent imagination. His finest lyric compositions are the Odes entitled 
Wie Bard, that on the Progress of Poetry, the Installation Ode on 
the Duke of Grafton's election to the Chancellorship of the University, 
and the short but truly noble Ode to Adversity, which breathes the 
severe and lofty spirit of the highest Greek lyric inspiration. The El- 
egy -written in a Country Churchyard is a masterpiece from beginning 
to end. The thoughts indeed are obvious enough, but the dignity with 
which they are expressed, the immense range of allusion and descrip- 
tion with which they are illustrated, and the finished grace of the lan- 
guage and versification in which they are embodied, give to this work 
something of that inimitable perfection of design and execution which 
we see in an antique statue or a sculptured gem. In the Bard, starting ' 
from the picturesque idea of a Welsh poet and patriot contemplating 
the victorious invasion of his country by Edward I., he passes in pro- 
phetic review the whole panorama of English History, and gives a 
series of most animated events and personages from the thirteenth to 
the eighteenth century. It is true that he is occasionally' turgid, but 
the general march of the poem has a rush and a glow worth}' of Pin- 
dar himself. The phantoms of the great and the illustrious flit before 
us like the shadowy kings in the weird procession of Macbeth ; and the 
unity of sentiment is maintained first by the gratified vengeance with 
which the prophet foresees the crimes and sufferings of the oppressors 
of his country and their descendants, and by the triumphant prediction 
of the glorious reign of the Tudor race in Britain. In the odes enti- 
tled The Fatal Sisters, and the Descefit of Odin, Gray borrowed his ma- 
terials from the Scandinavian legends. The tone of the Norse poetry is 
not perhaps very faithfully reproduced, but the fiery and gigantic 
imagery of the ancient Scalds was for the first time imitated in Eng- 
lish; and though the chants retain some echoes of the sentiment and 
versification of more modern and polished literature, these attempts 
to revive the rude and archaic grandeur of the mythological traditions 
of the Eddas deserve no niggardly meed of approbation. In general 
Gray may be said to overcolor his language, and to indulge occasion- 



A. D. 1722-1800.] WARTOy. COWPER. 857 

ally in an excess of ornament and personification ; he will nevertheless 
be always regarded as a Ijric poet of a very high order, and as one who 
brought an immense store of varied and picturesque erudition to feed 
the fire of a rich and powerful fancy. 

§ 5. The poetical instinct must have been unusually strong in the 
family of the Wartons, to have made three of its members more or less 
distinguished at the same time. The two brothers, Joseph Warton 
(1722-1800) and Thomas Warton (i728-'i79o) were the sons of a Pro- 
fessor of Poetry at Oxford, and both brothers, especially the younger, 
deserve a place in the annals of our literature. Joseph was head master 
of Winchester School, and his brother Thomas, an Oxford Fellow, and 
during some time poet laureate, was a pleasing writer, one of the first 
to infuse into his writings a taste for the romantic sentiment. He ren- 
dered great service to literature by his agreeable but unfinished History 
of E?igUsk Poetry., which unfortunately comes to an abrupt termination 
just as the author is about to enter upon the glorious period of the 
Elizabethan era ; but the work is valuable for research and a warm tone 
of appreciative criticism. Thomas Warton exhibited his knowledge 
of and fon^^ess for Milton in an excellent edition of that poet, enriched 
with valuable notes. The best of his own original verses are sonnets, 
breathing a peculiar tender softness of feejing and showing much pic- 
turesque fancy. His brother's talent, though inferior, has a strong" 
family resemblance to his. 

§ 6. The progress which carried our national taste most rapidly from 
the correct and artificial type of Pope in the direction of the real sym- 
pathies of general humanity is most strongly exemplified in the writings 
of William Cowper (1731-1800). He is eminently the poet of the 
domestic affections and the exponent of that strong religious feeling 
which, originating in the revival of Evangelical piety generated by the 
preaching of Wesley and Whitefield, began to penetrate and modify all 
the relations of social life. His story is singularly sad. He was of 
ancient and even illustrious race, the grandson of Lord Chancellor 
Cowper, and was born with an extremely tender and impressionable 
character. After being cowed by bullying at a private school, he was 
sent to Westminster, and afterwards placed in an attorney's office, where 
one of his desk companions was Thurlow, afterwards celebrated as 
Chancellor for his sternness and political bigotry; and here he acquired 
some knowledge of the law, though he was destined never to practise 
it as his profession. His early life was frivolous and somewhat dissi- 
pated. Obtaining the nomination to a comfortable and lucrative post, 
that of Clerk of the Journals to the House of Lords, Cowper's sensitive 
and morbid disposition was so terrified at the idea of making a public 
appearance, that he fell into a gloomy despondency, and attempted to 
put an end to his existence. An attack of madness rendered it neces- 
sary that he should be confined in an asjlum, from whence he was after 
some time discharged, with his intellect restored indeed, but with his 
sensitive nature so deeply shaken that any active career in life had 
become an impossibility. Possessing a small income, and assisted \y 



358 THE DAWN OF ROMANTIC POETRY. [Chap. XIX. 

his familj', he retired into the country, and passed the remainder of hig 
life in privacy, being first phiced under the care of the family of Mr. 
Unwin, a clergyman in Huntingdon. His virtues and accoinpUshments 
inspired every person in the small circle with which he was in contact 
with the tenderest attachment; and with Mrs. Unwin in particular he 
laid the foundation of a tender and life-long friendship. Cowpers 
mind, always impressionable, and still smarting under the tremendous 
affliction which it had undergone, became morbidly susceptible of 
enthusiastic religious impressions ; and in the occasional relapses of 
his dreadful malady his hallucinations took that most unhappy form of 
mental disease — a form unfortunately the most common in England — 
of religious despair. The strong and elastic mind of Bunyan, and his 
natural cheerfulness of disposition, was able to triumph over these 
gloomy phantoms ; but Cowper's more feminine organization suc- 
cumbed in the trial. On the death of Unwin, he removed, with the 
widow, to Olney, where he resided in the house of John Newton, a 
man of great eloquence, and who professed the theology of the more 
Calvinistic section of the English Church. A more fatal companionship 
for a man in Cowper's situation could not have been im^ined. By 
perpetually dwelling upon mysterious and gloomy religious questions, 
and by encouraging the fatal habit of analyzing his own internal sen- 
sations, the poet's tendency to enthusiasm was aggravated ; and, though 
it could not diminish the charm of his genius or the benevolence of his 
heart, this religious fanaticism entirely destroyed the happiness of his 
life. He began to cultivate literature at first merely as a pastime, and 
as a means of distracting his attention from his own more than half- 
imaginary sufferings; but the force, originality, and grace of his genius 
soon acquired popularity, and he pursued as a profession what he had 
at first taken up as a diversion. His poetical talent did not flower until 
late : his first important publication did not appear till he had reached 
middle life. In 1773 and the two following years he suffered a relapse 
of his malady; on recovering from which he endeavored to calm his 
shattered spirits with a variety of innocent amusements — gardening, 
carpentering, and taming hares. His first poems were given to the 
world in 1782, and his friend Lady Austen, a woman of cheerful, 
accomplished mind, playfullj^ gave him the Sofa as a subject. Upon 
this he composed his poem of Tlie Task, which became so popular that 
he was encouraged to follow up his success with other works in a simi- 
lar style — the Table-Talk, Tirocinium, and many others. His most 
laborious but least successful vxndertaking was the translation into 
English blank verse of the Iliad. He justly considered that the neat 
and artificial style of Pope had done but scant justice to the father of 
Greek poetry; but in endeavoring to give greater force and vigor to 
his own version, he fell into the opposite fault to that of Pope, and 
made his translation harsh and rugged, without approaching one whit 
nearer to the true character of his original. From Olney he removed 
to Weston, where Mrs. Unwin died, and the pain of this loss clouded 
the remaining days of the unhappy poet with redoubled gloom and 
despondency. 



A. D. 1730-1769-] COWPER. FALCONER. 359 

The longer and more important poems of Cowper are written in a 
peculiar and entirely original manner, and on a plan then entirely new 
in literature. They contain a union of reflection, satire, description, 
and moral declamation. Some of them are in blank verse, while in 
others he has employed rhyme. His aim was to keep up a natural and 
colloquial style, and he is the declared enemy of all the pomp of diction 
which was at that time regarded as essential to poetry. His pictures 
of life and nature, whether of rural scenery or of in-door life, have 
seldom been surpassed for truth and picturesqueness, and his satirical 
sketches of the follies and absurdities of manners, and his indignant 
denunciations of national offences against piety and morality, are 
equally remarkable, in the one case, for sharpness and humor, and in 
the other for a lofty grandeur of sentiment. The district in which he 
lived is one of the least romantic in England; yet nothing more victo- 
riously proves that true poetical genius can give a charm and an interest 
to the most unpromising subjects, than the fact that Cov/per has com- 
municated to the level banks of the Ouse a magic that will never pass 
away. Similarly the quiet home circle of middle English life, the tea- 
table, the newspaper, and the hearth, have derived from him a beauty 
and a dignity which other men have failed to communicate to the 
proudest scenes of camps and courts. Though the morbid and fanat- 
ical religious sj-stem of Cowper has here and there tinged his works, 
the natural goodness and benevolence of his disposition more than 
neutralize the impression such passages produce, and in many of his 
comic and humorous delineations we see in full effulgence a playful 
gayety which no cloud can dim. Of all our poets Cowper is essentially 
the painter of domestic life, and his writings have deeply incorporated 
themselves into the tissue of our household existence. Their mixture 
of worldly observation, delicate painting of nature, and intense religious 
feeling peculiarly endears them to the great middle class in England. 
Many of Cowper's songs and shorter lyrics are elegant and sportive, 
and his beautiful lines On Receiving" my Mother s Picture, will ever be 
read with delight. His comic ballad yoktt Gilpin is a pleasant drollery, 
and his last verses. The Castaway, give a painful reflection of his de- 
spairing and unhappy creed. Cowper's letters are perhaps the most 
charming in the language; they show the poet in his most amiable 
light, and invest every trifle which surrounds him with a sort of halo 
of purity and goodness. 

§ 7. Several poems have appeared in England possessing what may 
be called a technical character, being either devoted to the teaching of 
some art, or describing some special sport or amusement. I may men- 
tion Armstrong's Art of Preserving Health, Grainger's Sugar-Cane, 
Philips's Cyder, and Somervjlle's Chase. Many of these works, in 
spite of the impracticable nature of their subjects, show considerable 
power of execution, and contain passages of excellence ; but the most 
popular and successful work of this kind is the Shipxvreck of William 
Falconer (1730-1769), a self-taught poet, who, as a professional sea- 
man, had himself witnessed the calamity he describes so well. He was 



360 THE DAWN OF ROMANTIC POETRY. [Chap. XIX. 

born about 1730, and perished at sea in a man-of-war which sailed on 
a cruise in 1769. and was never more heard of. Falconer's principal 
work, the Shipivreck^ is a narrative poem in three cantos, detailing the 
danger and ultimate loss of a merchant-ship on a voyage to Venice, 
which is cast awaj, after experiencing a violent gale in the Greek 
archipelago, on the dangerous rocks of Cape Colonna, the ancient 
Sunium. The description of the vessel, of her various manoeuvres 
during the hurricane, and of the ultimate destruction which she en- 
counters, are all strictly in accordance with nautical experience : every 
detail of seamanship is given in its proper technical language, and the 
poem has not only the merit of vigorous and correct painting of Nature 
under her wildest aspects of storm and terror, but is minutely accurate 
in point of seamanship. Falconer wisely and with good taste did not 
scruple to vise the terms of his art, and has thus not only given truth 
and vivacity to his picture, but has produced a work that may serve the 
young navigator as a sort of grammar of his art. He was the author 
of a useful Dictionary of Marine Tertns^ and the accurate practical 
knowledge which he possessed of the details of his noble profession he 
has in his poem jclothed with the charm of no ignoble verse. The least 
interesting portions of the poem are the romantic and sentimental 
details with which he clothes the persons of his officers : but no one 
ever read the SJiip-ivreck without following, with breathless interest, 
the course of the fated ship from Candia to her death-struggle among 
the breakers of Cape Colonna. 

To the department of technical poetry belongs also Erasmus Darwin 
(i;yi-i702), who endeavored to clothe in dazzling and somewhat tinsel 
splendor the principles of the Linnsean sexual system of vegetable 
physiology. Darwin was a man of unquestionable genius, and even 
of large scientific acquirements; but he unfortunately guided himself 
by the notion that poetry must address itself to the senses rather than 
to the sentiments, and produced a series of pictures which strike the 
fancy, but never touch the heart. Every object he struggled to present 
vividly, as it were, to the eye : and his abuse of personification, which is 
repeated so as to become as wearisome as it is generally fantastical, 
together with his meretricious and tawdry diction, though it gave him 
a great momentary popularity, has condemned him to neglect within 
half a century. His principal work is a poem the first part of which 
was entitled the Botanic Garden ; the second soon after followed under 
the name of the Loves of the Plants, and the work was afterwards 
completed by a third canto. The system which he wrote to illustrate 
gave him but too abundant opportunity of indulging in that highly- 
colored and somewhat sensual vein of description and impersonation 
which he carried to excess, and the elaborate and ambitious melody of 
his versification has not sufficed to compensate for the over-wrought 
and fatiguing monotony of his imagery. The decline of his fame, once 
very great, may also in some degree be attributed to a tendency in 
his doctrines, which some readers blame as not slightly tinged with 
materialism. Many of his episodes and subordinate descriptions exhibit 
a great force of language and a powerful faculty of the picturesque. 



A. D. 1738-1796.] JAMES MACFTIERSON. 361 

§ 8. The middle of the eighteenth century was remarkable for several 
nearly contemporaneous attempts at literary imposture — the poetical 
foigeries of Macpherson, Chatterton, and Ireland. The first of these 
three has alone survived, in some part, the ordeal of strict critical 
examination; and that because, though the totality of the works palmed 
upon the public as Ossian's have no claim whatever to the character 
arrogated for them by their pretended translator, they are nevertheless 
filled with names, incidents, and allusions really traceable to Celtic 
antiquity. James Macpherson (1738-1796) was a Scotchman, and a 
sort of literary adventurer of rather equivocal reputation. Originally 
a country schoolmaster, and afterwards a tutor, he pretended to have 
accumulated, in his travels through the Highlands of Scotland, an im- 
mense mass of fragments of ancient poetry composed in the Gaelic or 
Erse dialect common to that country and Ireland. The first portion of 
these — not, however, a very large one — he showed to Home, the author 
of the once-admired Tragedy of Douglas, and they were printed, 
exciting an intense enthusiasm, and soon giving ground to one of the 
most vehement controversies that have ever raged among antiquarians 
and literary men. The translations, which Macpherson professed to 
have made from the originals, were composed in a pompous and de- 
clamatory rhetorical sort of prose, something like the versions of the 
poetical portions of the Scriptures. The Highlanders, eager for the 
honor of their country, maintained the authenticity of these poems, 
and asserted that the name of Ossian, the supposed author, as well as 
innumerable persons, descriptions, and historical events mentioned in 
them, had been familiar to their memories as the legends of their 
childhood. The Southern critics, however, among whom Johnson 
occupied a foremost place, expressed the strongest scepticism, basing 
their disbelief upon the want of evidence that there existed among the 
Scottish Celts any written literature approaching in antiquity to the 
date assigned to the fragments, and also upon the impossibility of such 
a state of society and such refined and chivalrous sentiments ever hav- 
ing prevailed among so rude a people as the Highlanders were at the 
supposed period. Macpherson might at once have settled the question 
by producing the supposed originals, a philological and critical exami- 
nation of which would, of course, have instantly decided their degree 
of authenticity and the age and country which produced them ; but this 
Macpherson, after much shuffling, refused to do, under the pretext that 
his honor had been impeached. He afterwards published two long 
poems in the same style, Fijigal in six, and Temora in eight books, 
which he attributed, like the preceding fragments, to the genius of the 
Celtic Homer. The regularity of construction in these works, the nu- 
merous passages in them as well as in their predecessors evidently 
plagiarized from the whole range of literature, from the Bible and 
Homer down to Shakspeare, Milton, and even Thomson, the artificial 
and monotonous though strained and highly-wrought diction, and 
above all the sentiments in constant discordance with the real manners 
of the ancient Highlanders, would have sufficed, even in the general 



362 THE DAWN OF ROMANTIC POETRY. [Chap. XIX. 

ignorance of the Gaelic language, to undeceive all except those who 
were ignorantly carried away bj the imposing but hollow magnificence 
of the style. More accurate investigation established that though these 
poems are crowded with names and allusions which really abound in 
the old Irish and Highland legends, no entire poem, nay, no consider- 
able fragment of a poem, has ever been found in the least corresponding 
with any of Macpherson's pretended discoveries. Yet more, the scanty 
remains of Celtic verse attributed upon more solid grounds to Ossian, 
have a character totally different, and evidently belong to an age con- 
siderably later than that assigned by him ; for they contain allusions 
to Christianity, of which there is no trace in the pretended antiquities 
of Macpherson. The wild and overstrained style and imagery of Ossian 
long made Macpherson's forgeries enormously popular throughout 
Europe; poetry and painting, and even the stage, were filled with the 
*' daughters of the snow," " car-borne heroes," and misty phantoms. In 
Germany the admiration has not yet altogether subsided : the m^nia 
for Ossianic imagery extended even to Russia; and perhaps the only 
poetry which attracted the imagination of Napoleon was the wild, de- 
clamatory rhapsody which left no faint traces upon his bulletins. The 
vague yet monotonous imagery, the sham and theatrical sentiment, and 
the colossal amplifications of these works, while operating fataiiy upon 
their authenticity, will perhaps always give them a sort of charm to the 
taste of young and uncultivated readers. Macpherson accumulated a 
considerable fortune, became a political pamphleteer, sat in Parliament, 
and died without leaving any clew to elucidate the true secret of what 
is now considered an audacious imposture. 

§ 9. The annals of literature hardly present a more extraordinary 
example of precocious genius than that of Thomas Chatterton 
(1752-1770), nor an instance of a career more brief and melancholy. 
He was born in 1752, the son of a poor sexton and parish schoolmaster 
at Bristol, and he died, by suicide, before he had completed his eigh- 
teenth year. Within this short interval he gave evidence of powers 
that would in all probability have placed him at the head of the poets 
of his day, and he executed a series of literary forgeries which have 
hardly any parallel for extent and ingenuity. He produced at eleven 
years of age verses which will more than bear a comparison- with the 
early poems of any author : and though he had received little education 
beyond that of a parish school, he conceived the project of deceiving 
all the learned of his age, and creating, it maj' almost be said, a whole 
literature of the past. He was passionately fond of black letter, her- 
aldry, and old architecture, and his imagination had probably been 
fired by the numerous fine remains of mediaeval building in which 
Bristol abounds. One of the most remarkable of these is the noble old 
church of St. Mary Redcliffe, of which Chatterton's father was sexton, 
and which was the place of sepulture of Canynge, a rich citizen of 
Bristol, and benefactor to the church in the reign of Edward IV. In 
the muniment-room of this edifice had been kept a chest called Ca- 
nynge's coffer, in which had been preserved charters and other docu* 



A. D. 1752-1770.] THOMAS CHATTERTON. 363 

ments connected with Canjnge's benefactions to the church. Many of 
these had been removed ; but there remained a large mass of parch- 
ments which had been thrown aside as of no value, and had been 
employed by Chatterton's father for covering his scholars' copy-books. 
The young poet, familiarized with the sight of these antiquated writings, 
conceived the idea of forging a whole series of documents, which he 
pretended either to have found in Canynge's coffer, or to have tran- 
scribed from originals in that mysterious receptacle. These he pro- 
duced gradually, generally taking advantage of some topic of public 
interest to bring forward and contribute either to the local newspapers 
or to his acquaintances in the town, the pretended originals or tran- 
scripts from the pretended originals having some relation to the matter 
in hand. Thus on the occasion of the opening of a new bridge over 
the Avon he produced an account of processions, tournaments, reli- 
gious solemnities and other ceremonies which had taken place on the 
opening of the old bridge. To Mr. Burgum, an hcaiest pewterer of 
Bristol, who happened to have a taste for heraldry, he gave a pedigree 
tracing his descent to Od, Earl of Blois and Lord of Holderness. 
Horace Walpole was then writing his Anecdotes of British Painters : 
Chatterton furnished him with a long list of mediaeval artists who had 
flourished in Bristol. All these documents, which he pretended to have 
found in the chest of the muniment-room, he fathered upon a priest, 
Thomas Rowley, whom he represents to have been employed by the 
munificent Canynge as a sort of agent for collecting works of art, who 
was the author of the poems that constitute the majority of the parch- 
ments. The poems are of immense variety and unquestionable merit ; 
and though modern criticism will instantly detect in them, as did Gray 
and Mason when Walpole submitted some of them to their opinion, 
the most glaring marks of forgery, yet their brilliancy and their num- 
ber were enough to deceive many learned scholars in an age when 
minute antiquarian knowledge of the Middle Ages was much rarer 
than at present. Besides, the apparent impossibility of such works 
being produced by an uneducated boy, without aid and without appar- 
ent motive, still further intensified the mystery. In those documents 
which Chatterton tried to pass off as originals he imitated as near as 
he could the antiquated handwriting, which his practice as an attorney's 
clerk assisted him to do : he also carefully discolored his parchment, 
and used every means to give it an air of antiquity. In those docu- 
ments, far more numerous, which he brought forward as copies or 
transcripts of originals, he trusted to an elaborate grotesqueness of 
style and spelling; he carefully introduced every quaint, odd-looking 
word which he picked up in Chaucer and the other old authors that he 
greedily studied. No task is so difficult as that of successfully imitating 
ancient compositions, and the wonder is rather that Chatterton should 
have done this without immediate exposure than that he should have 
fallen into errors which detect him at once. Thus in his eagerness to 
incrust his diction with the rust, the oerugo^ of antiquity he overlays 
his words with such an accumulation of consonants as belong to no 



364 THE DAWN OF ROMANTIC POETRY. [Chap. XIX. 

orthography of any age of our language. And this cerugo is merely 
superficial : divested of their fantastic spelling, his lines have the 
cadence and the regularity of modern composition, and the grammat- 
ical structure in no respect differs from the English of the eighteenth 
century. He has also, as was inevitable, sometimes made a slip in the 
use of an old word, as when he borrowed the expression moi'tmal, 
which he found in Chaucer's description of the Cook, he employed it, 
having forgotten its meaning, to signify, not a disease, the gangrene, 
but a dish. In the same way he uses the -^or A. drawing in the mod- 
ern sense; whereas it was unquestionably never employed with that 
meaning till in comparatively modern times. Of the same kind are 1 is 
innumerable examples of impossible architecture and heraldry at vari 
ance with every principle of the art. Burning with pride, hope, and 
literary ambition, the unhappy lad betook himself to London, and un- 
successfully attempted to gain a subsistence as a political pamphleteer 
and satirical poet. He was a professed infidel, but his moral character 
is unimpeached, and he was not only frugal and industrious, but 
always showed himself a most affectionate son and brother. After 
struggling a short time with distress, and almost with starvation, in 
London, he shut himself up in despair in his miserable garret, left a wild 
and atheistical paper which he called his will, tore up all his manu- 
scripts, and poisoned himself with a dose of arsenic on the 25th of 
August, 1770. Singularly enough his acknowledged poems, though indi- 
cating very great powers, are manifestly inferior to those he wrote in 
the assumed character of Thomas Rowley. The best of these are a 
Tragedy called Alla^ the ballad of Sir Charles Batvdin, both connected 
with the ancient history of Bristol, and several pastorals, which, like 
that entitled Elinour and jftiga, betray by their very nature the impos- 
sibility of their having been really produced at the time assigned for 
their composition. 

William Henry Ireland (1777-1835) deserves mention only on 
account of his Shakspearian forgeries, among which was a play entitled 
Vorfigern, in which John Kemble acted in 1795. Ireland soon after- 
wards acknowledged that he was the author of these forgeries. 

§ 10. If Cowper be rightly denominated the poet of the domestic 
hearth, George Crabbe (1754-1832) is eminently the poet of the pas- 
sions in humble life. In his long career he is the link connecting the 
age of Johnson and Burke with that of Walter Scott and Byron ; and 
his admirable works, while retaining in their form much of the cor- 
rectness and severity of the past age, exhibit in their subjects and treat- 
ment that intensity of human interest and that selection of real passion 
which constitute the distinguishing characteristic of the writers who 
appeared at the beginning of the present century. He was born at the 
little seaport-town of Aldborough, in Suffolk, where his father was an 
humble fisherman, and performed the duties of salt-master or receiver 
of the customs duties on salt; ano his childhood was miserable through 
bodily weakness and the sight of continual dissensions between his 
parents. After a dreamy ant* studious childhood, during which his 



A. D. 1754-1832.] GEORGE CRAB BE. 365 

thirst for knowledge was encouraged by his father, a man of violent 
passions but of considerable intellectual development for one in his 
humble position, joung Crabbe was apprenticed to a surgeon and 
apothecary, and first exercised his profession in his native town. Pas- 
sionately fond of literature and botany, his success in business was so 
small that he determined to seek his fortune in London, where he 
arrived with only about 3/. in his pocket, and several unfinished poems, 
which he published, but which were coldly received. ^ After some stay 
in London he found himself reduced to despair, and even threatened 
with a prison for some small debts he had contracted ; and after vainly 
applying for assistance to various persons connected with Aldborough, 
he addressed a manly and affecting letter to Edmund Burke, who 
immediately admitted him to his house and friendship. From this 
moment his fortune changed; he was assisted, both with money and 
advice, in bringing out his poem of The Library, was induced to enter 
the Church, and was promis^ ' the powerful influence of Lord Chan- 
cellor Thurlow. He became domestic chaplain to the Duke of Rutland, 
and lived some time at the magnificent seat of Beauvoir; but this 
dependent position seems to have been accompanied with circumstances 
distasteful to Crabbe's manly character. It however enabled him to 
marry a j'oung lady to whom he had been long attached, and he soon 
after changed the splendid restraint of Beauvoir for the humbler but 
more independent existence of a parish priest. From this period till 
his death, at the great age of seventy-eight, his life was passed in the 
constant exercise of his pastoral duties in various parishes, and in the 
cultivation of literature and his favorite science of botany.' 

In his first poem. The Library, it was evident that Crabbe had not 
yet hit upon the true vein of his peculiar and powerful genius. It was 
not till the appearance of The Village, in 1783, that he struck out that 
path in which he had neither predecessor nor rival. The manuscript 
of this poem w^as submitted to Johnson, who gave his advice and assist- 
ance in the correction and revision of the style. The success of The 
Village was very great, for it was the first attempt to paint the manners 
and existence of the laboring class without dressing them up in the 
artificial colors of fiction. Crabbe allowed about fourteen years to pass 
before he again appeared before the public. During the interval he was 
busied with his professional duties, and enjoying the happiness of 
domestic life, which no man was ever more capable of appreciating : 
he, however, does not appear to have relaxed his habit of composition. 
His next work was The Parish Register, in which the public saw the 
gradual ripening of his vigorous and original genius; and this was 
followed, at comparatively short intervals, by The Borough, Talcs in 
Verse, and Tales of the Hall. These, with the striking but painful 
poems, written in a different measure, entitled Sir Eustace Grey and 
The Hall of Justice, make up Crabbe's large and valuable contribution 
to the poetical literature of his country. Almost all these works are 
constructed upon a peculiar and generally similar plan. Crabbe starts 
with some description, as of the Village, the Parish Church, the Bor- 
31* 



866 THE DAWN OF ROMANTIC POETRY. [Chap. XIX. 

ough, — just such a deserted seaport-town as his native Aldborough, — 
from which he naturally proceeds to deduce a series of separate epi- 
sodes, usually of middle and humble life, appropriate to the leading 
idea. Thus in the Parish Register we have some of the most remark- 
able births, marriages, and deaths that are supposed to take place in a 
year amid a rural population ; in the Borough^ the lives and adventures 
of the most prominent characters that figure on the narrow stage of a 
small provincial town. The Tales are a series of stories, some pathetic 
and some humorous, each complete in itself; and in the Talcs of the 
Hall two brothers, whose paths in life have separated them from boy- 
hood, meet in their old age and recount their respective experiences. 
Sir Eustace Grey is the story of a madman related with terrific energy 
and picturesqueness by himself; and in the Hall of Justice a gypsy 
criminal narrates a still more dreadful story of crime and retribution. 
With the exception of the two last poems, written in a peculiar rhymed 
short-lined stanza, Crabbe's poems are in the classical ten-syllabled 
heroic verse, and the contrast is strange between the neat Pope-like 
regularity of the metre, and the deep passion, the intense reality, and 
the quaint humor of the scenes which he displays. He thoroughly 
"knew and profoundly analyzed the hearts of men : the virtues, the 
vices, the weakness, and the heroism of the poor he has anatomized 
with a stern but not unloving hand. No poet has more subtly traced 
the motives which regulate human conduct; and his descriptions of 
nature are marked by the same unequalled power of rendering inter- 
esting, by the sheer force of truth and exactness, the most unattractive 
features of Ihe external world. The village-tyrant, the poacher, the 
smuggler, the miserly old maid, the pauper, and the criminal, are 
drawn with the same gloomy but vivid force as that with which Crabbe 
paints the squalid streets of the fishing-town, or the fen, the quay, and 
the heath. The more unattractive the subject the more masterly is the 
painting, whether that subject be man or natute. Crabbe is generally 
accused of giving a gloomy and unfavorable view of human life ; but 
his pathos, when he is pathetic, reaches the extreme limit which sensi- 
bility will bear, and in such tales as Phoebe Dawson, Edward Shore, 
the Parting Hour, the intensity of the effect produced by Crabbe is 
directly proportioned to the simplicity of the means by which the effect 
is attained. In painting the agonies of remorse, the wandering reason 
of sorrow or of crime, he is a master; and the story of Peter Grimes 
may be cited as an unequalled example of the sublime in common life. 
None of the great Flemish masters have surpassed Crabbe in minute- 
ness as well as force of delineation, and like them his delineation is 
often most impressive when its subject is most vile, and even repulsive. 
§ 11. The greatest poet, beyond all comparison, that Scotland has 
produced is Robert Burns (1759-1796). He was born at the hamlet 
of AUoway in Ayrshire, and was the son of a peasant farmer of the 
humblest class. Popular education was at that period far more gener- 
ally diffused in Scotland than in any other country in Europe; and the 
future glory of his nation was able to acquire, partly by the wise care 



A. D. 1759-1796O ROBERT BURNS. 367 

of his father, and partly by his own avidity for knowledge, a degree 
of intellectual culture which would have been surprising in any other 
country. He had a good general acquaintance with the great master- 
pieces of English literature, and could use with perfect facility the style 
and diction of the great classical authors of South Britain, though by 
far the finest and most characteristic works are written in the provin- 
cial dialect of his native land- His passions were unusually strong, 
and he began, from a very early age, to express in verse the impres- 
sions made upon his fancy by the beautiful and pastoral nature which 
surrounded him, and the outpourings of his own feelings and heart. 
Nor was the tendency to song a rare or unusual accomplishment in the 
district he inhabited and among the class to which he belonged. The 
Lowland Scotch dialect, once the language of the Court and of an 
extensive national literature, was still cultivated with enthusiasm among 
the middle and lower classes ; and every valley, every village, possessed 
its rustic poets, whose " unpremeditated strains " continued the tradi- 
tions of that ancient and strongly national popular literature, which 
had exhibited an almost uninterrupted succession»of splendid names, 
from David Lyndsay, Dunbar, and Gavin Douglas, to Allan Ramsay 
and the ill-fated Fergusson. In early life Burns labored like a peasant 
upon his father's farm, and afterwards endeavored, but without success, 
to conduct a farm with his brothers : his speculations failing he was on 
the eve of abandoning, in despair, his native country, and emigrating 
to the West Indies, where so many Scotsmen by their intelligence, 
their parsimony, and their industry, have acquired honorable fortunes. 
In order to raise funds for this voyage, he was induced to publish a 
collection of his poems, which had long enjoyed a great local popular- 
ity; and these were received by the highly cultivated society of Edin- 
burgh with a tempest of enthusiasm that instantly made the "Ayrshire 
ploughman" the idol of the fashionable and literarj^ world. The peas- 
ant-poet was regarded as a species of phenomenon, and plunged into 
the intoxicating current of gay life with an ardor that unfitted him for 
returning to his humble existence, but which, though it increased his 
natural taste for gross convivial pleasures, could neither injure the 
natural dignity of his character nor corrupt the benevolence of his 
heart. After again falling into embarrassments, rendered more inex- 
tricable by his irregularities, he obtained a humble appointment in 
the Excise service, the duties of which were not only arduous and very 
scantily paid, but were of a nature to still further engross his time and 
to cherish habits of intemperance that had been continually growing 
upon him. His strong constitution was undermined by excess and 
excitement of all kinds, and the poet died of fever at Dumfries, in 
extreme poverty, in the thirty-seventh year of his age. 

In Burns the highest and most apparently incompatible qualities 
"were united to a degree which is rarely met with, — tenderness the 
most exquisite, humor the broadest and the most refined, the most 
delicate and jet powerful perception of natural beauty, the highest 
finish and the easiest negligence of style. He paints with the sharp 



368 THE DAWN OF ROMANTIC POETRY. [Chap. XIX. 

and infallible touch of Homer or of Shakspeare, and amid the wildest 
ebullitions of gayety he has thoughts that sound the very abysses of 
the heart. His writings are chiefly Ij'ric, consisting of songs of inimi- 
table beauty; but he has also produced works either of a narrative or 
satirical character, and in some of which the lyric element is combined 
with the descriptive. The longest and most remarkable of his poems 
is Ta7n o' Shunter, a tale of popular witch-superstition, in which the 
most brilliant descriptive power is united to a pathos the most touch- 
ing, a fancy the most wild, and a humor the quaintest, slyest, and most 
joyous. Tarn is a drunken ne'er-do-weel of a horse-couper, who trav- 
ersing a dreary moor on All-hallow-Eve, when according to ancient 
tradition all demons and witches have power, passes, on his Avay home 
from a drinking-bout, near the old ruined Kirk of Alloway, which to 
his surprise he finds lighted up. Emboldened by John Barleycorn, he 
steals close to the window, looks in, and witnesses the sabbath of the 
witches, described by the poet with an inimitable mixture of grotesque 
humor and fantastic horror. Unable to conceal his delight at the 
agility of the dancers, he attracts their attention, and is pursued by the 
whole band till he can cross a running stream which defeats their power 
of enchantment. He is just in time to escape, and the tail of his gray 
mare remains as a trophy in the hands of his pursuers. Burns pos- 
sesses, to a degree exceeded only by Shakspeare, the power of giving 
a human interest to material objects, a quality found onlj' in poets of 
the highest order. Like Shakspeare, too, he brings into contact the 
familiar and the ideal, and combines the broadest humor with the pro- 
foundest pathos. Another inimitable poem, half-narrative, but set 
thick with glorious songs, is the Jolly Beggars : careless vagabond 
jollity, roaring mirth and gypsy merriment, have never been so ex- 
pressed : though low in the extreme Burns is never vulgar; his ragged 
bacchanals swagger and drink with inimitable grace and nature. In 
his Address to the De'il, Death and Dr. Hornbook, The Ttva Dogs, and 
the dialogue between the Old and New Bridges of Ayr, Burns combines 
humorous and picturesque description with reflections and thoughtful 
moralizing upon life and society. The first-mentioned of these poems 
offers that exquisite stroke of tenderness where the poet refuses to 
despair of the ultimate pardon of the Evil One himself, and addresses 
him in language of infinite softness, to ask him what pleasure he can 
take in tormenting poor miserable sinners. The Dialogue between the 
Tiva Dogs is an elaborate comparison between the relative degree of 
virtue and happiness granted to the rich and the poor. Burns declares 
the balance to be pretty even ; and there is no reason to doubt the cor- 
rectness of his judgment. His description of the ]oys and consolations 
of the poor man's lot is perhaps even more beautiful in this poem than 
in the more generallj' popular Cottar s Saturday Night, written in 
stanzas, and in a language less provincial than the former. This cir- 
cumstance has rendered the poem better known to such readers as are 
imperfectly acquainted with the Lowland dialect; but in my opinion 
the Cottar'' s Saturday Night, though containing many beautiful pas- 



A. D. 1759-1796.] ROBERT BURNS. 869 

sages, is inferior in raciness to the Ttua Dogs. Certainly there has 
never been a nobler tribute paid to the virtues of the peasant class than 
has been given bj Burns in these two poems. In the poeni descriptive 
of rustic fortune-telling on Hallorveen, in the Vision of Liberty, where 
Burns gives such a sublime picture of his own early aspirations, in the 
unequalled sorrow that breathes through the Lament for Glcncairn, in 
Scotch Drink, the Haggis, the epistles to Captain Grose and Matthew 
Henderson, in the exquisite description of the death of the old ewe 
Mailie, and the poet's address to his old mare, we find the same pre- 
vailing mixture of pathos and humor, that truest pathos which finds 
its materials in the common every-day objects of life, and that truest 
humor wiiich is allied to the deepest feeling. Examples of the same 
truth present themselves in every page of Burns, and quite as often in 
his shorter lyrics and songs. The famous lines On Turni?tg up a 
Mouses Nest with the Plough, and on destroying in the same way a 
Alountain Daisy, will ever remain among the chief gems of tenderness 
and beauty. 

I may here remark the peculiar cl»arm of that six-lined stanza of 
short lines which Burns has so profusely employed, and which is a 
form of versification exclusively Scotch. The Songs properly so called 
are exceedingly numerous, and generally of great though sometimes 
of unequal merit. Those written iff pure English have often an arti- 
ficial and somewhat pretentious air, which places them below the Doric 
of the Lowland Muse. Intensity of feeling, condensed force and pic- 
turesqueness of expression, and admirable melody of flow, are the 
qualities which distinguish them. Some were based upon older verses 
originally written to be sung to some ancient air: these Burns has fre- 
qviently re-written, giving to them a power and a freshness altogether 
new. The list of subjects adapted for the purpose of the song-writer 
is always very limited — love, patriotism, and pleasure, constitute the 
whole. To give variety to this narrow repertory is a difficult task; and 
no poet has exhibited greater fertility than Burns. In the song Ae fond 
Kiss and then xve Part is consecrated the whole essence of a thousand 
iove-poems : the heroic outbreak of patriotism in Scots -wha hae ivi^ 
Wallace bled i,s a lyric of true Tyrtaean force, and in those of a calmer 
and more lamenting character, as Te Banks and Braes, there is the 
finest union of personal sentiment with the most complete assimilation 
of the poet's mind to the loveliness of external nature. The only 
defects with which this great poet can be reproached is an occasional 
coarseness of satire, as exemplified in the personalities of Holy Fair, 
a tone of defiant and needless opposition of one class against another, 
and now and then a vulgar and misplaced ornament which contrasts 
tawdrily with the sweet simplicity of the general style. This last is 
generally to be met with in such of Burns's poems as are written in 
English. Nor should I forget a somewhat sensual and over-ardent 
style of complimeiK which Burns has sometimes introduced into his 
love-verses, and which is the more reprehensible as it contrasts with 
the warm yet chastened spirit which generally breathes in his love- 
strains. 



870 THE COMIC DRAMA. [Chap. XIX. 

§ 12. The coarse but pungent and original humor of John Wolcot 
(1738-1819) gave him, during the reign of George III., a vogue which, 
like that of his fellow-satirist Churchill in the preceding period, was 
bright and brilliant. Under the pseudonyme of Peter Pindar he ridi- 
culed the weaknesses and oddities of the King, attacked the Rojal 
Academy with unrelenting pasquinades, and showed no mercy to Sir 
Joseph Banks and the court poets. The oddity and boldness of his 
irregular burlesque style, the abundance of quaint images and illustra- 
tions, and the unblushing impudence of his lampoons, make his 
writings curious to the student, though their grossness has excluded 
them from general readers. His knowledge and taste in painting were 
considerable, but the violence of his personalities and his frequent 
indecency render him rather a curious literary phenomenon than a name 
deserving of respect in literature. Some of his humorous tales, as The 
Pilgrims aiid the Peas, the Razor Seller, and the ludicrous amoeb^ean 
strains of ^^^^zy and Piozzi, in which he laughs at the rival biographers 
of Johnson, exhibit the peculiar manner in which he excelled, carried 
to the highest pitch of absurdity? 

§ 13. In tracing the progress of the comic drama from the middle 
of the eighteenth century down almost to the present time, the chief 
names to be noted are those of Garrick, Foote, Cumberland, the two 
Colmans, father and son, of whom the second is by far the most con- 
siderable, and lastly Sheridan, that strange cometary genius, whose 
powers were so versatile and whose life was so brilliant and so disrepu- 
table. Garrick, Foote, and the Colmans were either actors or theatri- 
cal managers; David Garrick (1716-1779) was perhaps the greatest 
performer that the English stage had seen since the days of Burbage 
and Alleyn : his principal plays are the Lying Valet and Miss in her 
Teens, which are still acted. Samuel Foote (1721-1777) was cele- 
brated for his convivial humor and his power of mimicry, which made 
him at once formidable to his victims and the idol of his associates. 
He produced a considerable number of farcical and amusing pieces, 
most of which owed their chief success to the caricatures they con- 
tained of particular persons. Only one has constantly retained pos- 
session of the theatre, the coarse but excellently humorous farce The 
Mayor of Garratt, containing in particular the two admirable types 
of citizen life. Major Sturgeon, the volunteer Bobadill, and Jerry Sneak, 
the hen-pecked husband. Richard Cumberland (1732-1811) was a 
man of learning and accomplishments, who obtained some reputation 
in various branches of literature : his dramas, of which the West Indian 
is a favorable specimen, are neatly constructed and show vivacity of 
dialogue ; but they are tainted with that tendency to morbid sentimen- 
talism which was the vice of our stage during some time, being the 
reaction against the barefaced immorality of the school of Wycherley 
and Congreve. The two Colmans (George Colman, the elder, 1733- 
1794, and George Colman, the younger, 1762-1*6), were theatrical 
managers and prolific writers. The best production of the younger is 
the Heir at Latv, a piece in some measure belonging to the same class 



A. D. 1751-1816.] RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 371 

as Goldsmith's She Stoops to Co72quer^ reiving for its interest principally 
on odd humors and quaint language, and in a rich abundance of absurd 
incidents more laughable than probable. In his piece of the Poor Gen- 
tleman also the farcical personages, as that of the half-militia officer, 
half-apothecarj^, Ollapod, are extremely amusing : but the sentimental 
scenes in this play, chiefly and most unadroitly copied from Sterne's 
Uncle Toby and Trim, are completely unworthy of the rest. What 
pleases in Colman is the air of dash and high spirits which pervades 
his scenes. 

Richard Brinsley Sheridan (1751-1816) is certainh' one of the 
most remarkable figures in the social, political, and intellectual life of 
the period. He was endowed by nature, in a degree little inferior to 
Burke, with the talents of an orator. His colloquial repartees and wit- 
ticisms made him the darling of society, and his place in the dramatic 
literature of his age is inferior to that of none of his contemporaries. 
Byron justly said that the intellectual reputation of Sheridan was truly 
enviable, that he had made the best speech — that on the Begums of 
Oude — written the two best comedies, \\\q Rivals and the School for 
Sca?idal, the best opera, the Duefifia, and the best farce, the Critic. His 
whole life, both in Parliament and in the world, was a succession of 
extravagance and imprudence; and the ingenious shifts by which he 
endeavored to stave off his embarrassments, and the jokes with which 
he disarmed even his angriest creditors, would of themselves furnish 
matters for a most amusing jest-book. He died in hopeless distress, 
and was buried with princely pomp, and amid the applauses of an 
admiring country. His two great comedies belong to the two distinct 
types of the drama : the Rivals depends for its interest upon the gro- 
tesqueness of its characters and the amusing unexpectedness of its 
incidents, while the School for Scandal is essentially a piece of witty 
dialogue or repartee. The language of the latter was polished by the 
author with the most anxious care, and every passage sparkles with 
the cold and diamond-like splendor of Congreve. In the Critic w^e 
have a farce, based upon the often-emploj^ed fiction of the rehearsal of a 
tragedy, M'^hich gives the author the opportunity of introducing a bur- 
lesque or caricature of the imaginary piece, while at the same time he 
can introduce the absurdities of the author and the criticisms of his 
friends. The Rehearsal is an example of a similar plan. But on his 
caricature Sheridan has lavished all the treasures of his admirable wit. 
Dangle, Sneer, and Puff, as well as the unsurpassed sketch of Sir Fret- 
ful Plagiary, an envious, irritable dramatist, intended to represent 
Cumberland, are as lively, as humorous, and as ever fresh as <"he per- 
sonages in the Elizabethan drama which is being repeated before them. 
It is probable that not a line of these three pieces will ever cease to be 
popular : whether acted or read they are equally delightful — an inces- 
sant blaze of intellectual fireworks. 



372 



NOTES AND ILL*USTRATIONS, [Chap. XIX. 



NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 



OTHER POETS OF THE EIGHTEENTH 
CENTURY. 

John Bykom (1691-1763), bom at Manchester, 
educated at Cambridge, inventor 4jt a patented sys- 
tem of shorthand, and at last a private gentleman in 
liis native place, is best known for a pastoral which 
first appeared in the Spectator, — JJy time, O ye 
Muses, was huppibj spent. He wrote several other 
sniall poems, which have lately been published by a 
local Society in Manchester. His writings exliibit 
ease and fancy. 

John Dyek (1098-1758) was born at Aberglasney, 
Carmarthenshire, educated at Westminster School, 
and travelled through Wales and Italy, studying 
painting, but afterwards became a clergyman of the 
Church of England. His best known poem is 
Orongar Hill. Some portions of the Ruins of 
Home received the praise of Johnson. In 1757 he 
produced a poem on the unpoetic subject of The 
Fleece, and died soon afterwards, on the 24th July, 
1758. Dyer is a poet who gives promise of the better 
school that was soon to adorn English literature. 
His imagination and style have received the praise 
of Wordsworth; and Gray, writing to Walpole, 
says, " Dyer has more of poetry in his imagination 
than almost any of our number, but rough and in- 
Judicious." The moral reflections in his poetry are 
introduced very naturally, whilst most pleasing 
pictures of nature are expressed in easy and flowing 
verse. 

Nathaniel Cotton (1707-1788), author of Mis- 
cellarieous Poems. He was a physician at St. Al- 
ban's, and deserves remembrance from having Cow- 
per as his patient, who speaks of " his well-known 
humanity and sweetness of temper." 

CUAKLES Chuecuill (1731-1764), the son of a 
clergyman, received his education at Westminster 
School and Cambridge, and became curate of Rain- 
ham, in Essex. In 1758 he succeeded his father as 
curate and lecturer of St. John's, Westminster; but 
his careless habits and neglect of clerical proprieties 
brought him into conflict with the dean, and ended 
in his resignation of his preferments, and retirement 
from the Church. He gave himself up to political 
and satirical writing. He was a great friend of and 
coadjutor with Wilkes, of the North Briton. His 
private and domestic life was embittered by quar- 
rels with his wife and his habits of dissipation. He 
died at Boulogne, November 4, 1765, on a visit to his 
friend Wilkes. His greatest work was the liosciad, 
published in 1761, which was placed by contempo- 
raries on a level with the works of Pope and Dryden. 
It is easy in diction, and strong in language ; the 
invective is bold, and the rhythm flowing; but it 
has little poetic fervor, and tlie author has been well 
called nothing but a " pamphleteer in verse." In 
17f32 he wrote against the Scotch the Prophecy of 
Famine; which. Lord Stanhope remarks, "may 
yet be read with all the admiration which the most 
vigorous powers of verse, and the most lively touches 
Of wit, can earn in the cause of slander and false- 
hood." He also wrote a clever but savage attack in 
his Fj'istle to Hogarth, who in one of his pictures 
lepresented Churchill as a bear in clerical costume, 
Willi a pot of porter ui Uis pa.v. C-iaiciiill souyUt 



immediate popularity and pay rather than lasting 
worth. He was for a time one of the most popular 
of English poets. 

Henry Kiuke White (1785-1806) waf bom at 
Nottingham, the son of a butcher. The poet as- 
sisted his father for some time, but when about four- 
teen was apprenticed to a weaver. This occupation 
he soon abandoned, and was placed with an attorney 
and there made rapid progress in various studies, 
gaining a silver medal wlien about fifteen for a 
translation from Horace in the Monthly Preceptor. 
His poems were published in 1803, and, though 
scornfully noticed in the Monthly Revieiv, they 
attracted the attention of Mr. Southey and others. 
Resolving to enter the Church, he was enabled 
through Mr. Simeon to obtain a sizarship at St. 
John's College, Cambridge. His course here was 
rapid and brilliant. He won the first place in the 
College examinations, but his health gave way, and 
he died on the 19th October, 1806. His Remains 
a?id Memoir were published by Southey. 

The works of White must be estimated as tlia 
productions of a young writer, and rather for their 
high promise than intrinsic worth. He would never 
have taken a rank among the first class of poets, but 
his position would have been very high among the 
second. His versification is correct, his language 
polished. Here and there a stroke of imagination 
or passion bursts upon the reader : but it is gener- 
ally the quiet flow of a feeling and sensitive verso 
that wins admiration for the poet and affection for 
the man. 

His longest work is Clifton Grove, 1803, a de- 
scriptive poem. The best known of his writings are 
the Sony to an Early Primrose, Oondoline, and 
some of his hymns. 

Sib Charles Hanbitry Williams (1709-1759), 
one of the most popular satirists of the reign of 
George 11. Sir Robert Walpole waa his chief patron 
and friend, and found his pen no small aid in his 
political course. He was a member of Parliament 
for some years, and afterwards was sent to the 
Prussian and Russian courts as an ambassador. 
His poems are generally fugitive pieces. They were 
imperfectly collected in 182*2; but have now lost 
their interest, as they have almost entirely reference 
to the events of tliat age. 

William Julius Mickle (1734-1788), a native 
of Dumfriesshire, at first in business in Edinburgh, 
and afterwards corrector of the Clarendon press, 
was author of Pollio, The Concubine, and a transla- 
tion of the Lusiad of Camoens, 1775. The latter 
years of his life were spent near Oxford, where he 
died in 1788. He is said to be the author of Hie 
Mariner's Wife, one of the most exquisite little 
songs written in the Lowldnd Scotch. Cumnor Hall 
is perhaps the best known of the original poems of 
Mickle. 

Hannah More (1745-1&33) was the daughter of 
Jacob More, schoolmaster at Stapletou, in Glouces- 
tershire. The family removed to Bristol, and the 
future authoress was there aidcjd by the frieiidsliip 
of Sir James Stonehouse. In 1762 the Search after 
Happinesi was published, and was followed in a 
short time by 27*6 Liflexihle Captive. Wlioi about 
t..eiity-eiiht Miss More reiuoved to Lo.idon, and 



Chap. XIX.] 



NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 



373 



there entered into the literary circle of Johnson, 
Burke, and Garrick, at the house of the last of whom 
she resided. Her I'ercy was put on the Drury-Lane 
stage by Garrick in 1777. Whilst in London she 
produced another tragedy. The Fatal Falsehood, 
her lust dramatic composition. Some Poenis were 
published in 1786, portions of which were termed by 
Johnson " a great performance." Hannah More 
now became wearied of the life of London, and 
retired to Bristol, where her sisters kept a large 
boarding-school. Her pen was most busy; prose 
and poetry flowed unceasingly, embracing social, 
political, and ethical topics. Her monthly tales in 
the Rejiontorp, 1794, written against Jacobins and 
Levellers, reached a million in circulation. Her 
best known works are — Thoughts on the Manners 
of the Great, 1788; On Female Education, 1799; 
Caelebsin Search of a m/e, 1809; Practical Piety, 
1811, Src, making in all eleven volumes. Quaen 
Charlotte consulted Hannah More on the education 
of the Princess Charlotte, which was the occasion 
of the writing of the work Hints'^towards fanning 
the Character of a young Princess, 1S0.5. 

Mrs. More's style is flowing, and often sparkles 
with the light of a pleasant humor. Her later works 
are of a more sombre cast, from the deeper impiBS- 
Bions which religion seemed to be making upon her, 
yet she retained to the last her position as one of 
the greatest, if not the first, of English authoresses. 
Johnson considered her the best of female versifiers, 
but her prose is equal, if not superior, to her poetry. 
CoeUbs is perhaps the chief of her works — a fiction 
of much beauty in style, with a mixture of quiet 
irony : the plot is well evolved, but the characters 
are too few, and the incidents too tame, to make it 
in the present day a readable book. It has been 
well called a " dramatic sermon." 

Mrs. More's dramas gave promise of much success 
in that form of literature, but her serious turn of 
mind prevented her proceeding so as to produce a 
masterpiece. She died on the 7th of September, 
1833, at the age of 88. 

Isaac Hawkins Bro-wtste (1706-1760) was 
Member of Parliament for Wenlock, wrote some 
Latin imitations of Lucretius, and a few English 
poems, the chief of which were a series of six paro- 
dies of contemporary writers, published in 1736, the 
subject of which is A Pipe of 2'obacco. The imita- 
tions are of Cibber, Philips, Thomson. Young, 
Pope, and Swift. 

CiiKiSTOPUER Anstey (1724-1805), author of the 
well-known Sew Bath Guide, which was published 
in 1766, and became the most popular work of the 
day. The impression which it produced at the time 
may be seen from a letter of Horace Walpole to 
George Montague (June 20, 1766) : " What pleasure 
have you to come ! .... It is called the Sew 
Bath Guide. It stole into the world, and for a fort- 
night no soul looked into it, concluding its name 
was its true name. No such thing. It is a set of 
letters in verse, in all kind of verses, describing the 
lift at Bath, and incidentally everything else ; but 
80 much wit, so much humor, fun, and poetry, so 
much originality, never met together before." Other 
poems were wiitten by him, but they attracted little 
notice. 

Mes. Theale, afterwards Mks. Piozzt (1740- 
1822), whose maiden name was Esther Lynch Salus- 
bury, a native uf Bodville in C^'jarvovihire, 



married 3Ir. Henry Thralc, the opulent brewer, in 
whose house Dr. Johnson found so frequent a home. 
Slie was the authoress of The Three Warnings, 
which is so good a piece of composition that John- 
son has been supposed to have assisted in writing it. 
After the death of her husband, she married Piozzi, 
an Italian music-master, and left England. She 
wrote several other works, but the one by which she 
is best known is Anecdotes of Dr. Johnson, 1786. 
She spent the latter portion of her life at Clifton, 
where she died in 1822. 

CimiSTornEB Smabt (1722-1770), " an unfortu- 
nate and irregular man of genius," for some time a 
Fellow of Pembroke Hall, Cambridge, author of a 
satire called the Hilliad, an attack on the well-known 
Sir John Hill, and translator of Phtcdi-us and 
Horace into prose. In 1754 he was placed in a mad- 
house, and finally died in the King's Bench Prison. 
His most remarkable poem is the Song to David, 
indented on the wall of his cell with a key. 

Thomas Blacklock (1721-1791), the blind poet, 
who lost his eyesight at the age of six months, was 
bom in Annan ; received a good education at home, 
and afterwards in Edinburgh; became in 1759 a 
preacher in the Scotch Church ; wrote a treatise on 
Blindness in the Encyclopa;dia Britannica, ser- 
mons, and theological discourses, and several poems. 
The poetry is insipid and dull, but the correctness 
of description and the occasional vivid appreciation 
of natural beauty are most surprising in one who 
could not have remembered the little he himself had 
seen. Dr. Blacklock distinguished colors by the 
touch. 

Michael Bktjc'e (1746-1767), a young Scotch 
poet of some promise, was born at Kinnesswood, in 
the count}' of Kinross, and educated at Ediuburgh, 
but died soon after he left college, at his father's 
house. In 1770 his poems were published by John 
Logan. Editions more complete have been brought 
out in later times. His chief works were Lochleven 
and The Last Day. The style is immature, and 
there are many traces of borrowing from other 
poets; yet the poetry gives proofs of genius, and 
promise of high distinction. 

John Logan (1748-1788), at first a clergyman in 
the Scotch Church, lecturer in Edinburgh, author 
of Jiiumiiiiede, a tragedy, contributor to different 
magazines, and writer of several poetical pieces, 
some of which have been claimed for Bruce, whose 
literary executor Logan was. Logan's life was one 
of disappointment, and his ambition of excellence 
and literary glory was never realized. Some have 
said he died of a broken heart. The style of his 
writing is impressive, and his sermons won for him 
no small renown. His poetry is simple and pathetic. 
The Song to the Cuckoo, which has been ascribed to 
Bruce and to Logan, is one of the gems of Engliwh 
ballad literature. 

Anna SEWAcn (1747-1809), known as the " Swan 
of Lichfield," daughter of a canon in the cathedral 
of that city, wrote Sonnets, and a poetical novel, 
called Lottisa. Her poems were bequeathed to 
Walter Scott, for publication, but they are now 
utterly forgotten. 

Anna Letitia Barbatjld (1743-1825), daughter 
of a sch()olmaster in Leicestershire, named Aikin, 
and wife of Rochemont Barbauld, a Frenchman by 
extraction, and minister of a dissenting congrega- 
tion at Palgrave, in Suffolk. A little before hef 



S74 



NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. [Chap. XIX. 



marriage ehe published Hiscellaneous Poem*, and 
soon after Hymns in Prose for Children. Mr. Bar- 
bauld became minister of a church at Newington in 
1802, which brought Mrs. Barbauldinto greater con- 
nection witli the literary circles of the day. She 
wrote various other poems, containing here and 
there some true touches of poetic genius. Her style 
is simple and graceful, adorned by much exquisite 
fancy and imagery. Her most valued contributions 
have been her sacred pieces. That on The Death 
of the Righteous is one of the gems of English sacred 
poetry. 

RoBEET DODSLEY (1709-17G4) deserves mention 
as the great publisher and patron of literature of his 
age. He proposed the Annual Register, made a 
Collection of Poems by several Hands, 1758, and was 
himself the author of several poetical and dramatic 
pieces. His shop was in Pall Mall, and he com- 
menced his business by the assistance of Pope, who 
lent him lOOf. 

William Hayley (1745-1820), at one time a 
popular poet, the friend and biograpTier of Cowper, 
was educated at Trinity Hall. Cambridge. He 
wrote Triumphs of Temper, Triumphs of ilusic, 
poetical epistles, odes, essays, &c. His works in 
1785 occupied six volumes. 

Abthub MUBPHY (1730-1805), a native of Elphin, 
in the county of Roscommon, Ireland, received his 
e<lucation at St. Omer's, gave up the trade into 
which he had entered for literature, published The 
Oray's Inn Journal from 1752 to 1754; went on the 
stage, wrote dramas, and took part in the great con- 
test of parties ; at last became a barrister, and died a 
commissioner of bankruptcy. He published twenty- 
three plays, of which the Grecian Daughter was the 
most popular. His translation of Tacitus had great 
repute in its day. 

Joanna Baillib (1763-1851), bom at Bothwell, 
near Glasgow, the daughter of a Presbyterian cler- 
gjman, lived the greater part of her life at Hamp- 
Btead. She wrote various plays, of which her tragedy 
ofDe Montfort is perhaps the finest. 

John Home (1724-1808), author of the well-known 
tragedy of Douglas, which appeared in 1756, and was 
acted with great applause ; but it is now almost for- 
gotten, with the exception of the oft-repeated scene 
commencing with "My name is Norval." He was 
a minister of the Scotch Church ; but his having 
written a tragedy gave such grave offence to the 
elders of the Kirk, that he was obliged to resign his 
parish of Athelstaneford. He retired to England, 
and received a pension through the influence of the 
Earl of Bute. Sir Walter Scott, in his Diary (April 
25, 1827), thus speaks of Home's works: "They 
are, after all, poorer than I thought them. Good 
blank verse, and stately sentiment, but something 
lukewarmish, excepting Douglas, which is certainly 
a masterpiece. Even that does not stand the closet. 
The merits are for the stage -, and it is certainly one 
of the best acting plays going." 

Henry Brooke (1706-1783), the eon of a clergy- 
man in Ireland, and educated at Trinity College, 
Cambridge, came to Loudon, and was one of the 
poets patronized by Frederick Prince of Wales. 
His tragedy of Oustavus Vasa was supposed to have 
been directed against the prime minister Sir Robert 
Walpole, and the representation of it was forbidden 
by the Lord Chamberlain. He was also author of 
the Earl of Essex, and other plays, poems, transla- 



tions, Irs. He wrote The Farmer's Letters, which 
were published in Ireland at the time of the rebel- 
lion of 1745. He wrote the well-known novel, Th€ 
Fool of Quality. 

RiCUABD Gloveb (1712-1785), a London mer- 
chant, and Member of Parliament for Weymouth, 
better known for his noble independence and worth 
in private and public life than for his literary efforts. 
He published at an early age (1737) an epic poem on 
the subject of the Persian wars, called Leonidas, 
which was much praised in its day, but is now de- 
sen'edly forgotten. He wrote a second epic poem, 
or kind of continuation of the former, entitled Athe- 
nais, which appeared after his death (1787). 

William Mason (1725-1797), was a native of 
Yorkshire, received his education at Cambridge, 
entered the Church, became rector of Aston, in 
Yorkshire, and held the oflSce of canon and pre- 
centor in the cathedral of York. His chief works 
were — the dramas of £(/Hcf a, 1752, and Ca/aatacus, 
1759 ; Odes on Independence, Jlemory, &c. ; The 
English Oarden, 1772-1782, a poem in blank verse ; 
and a satire of much liveliness and force. An Heroic 
Epistle to Sir William Chambers, Knight, 1773. 
Mason's style is wanting in simplicity. His dramas 
are on the model of the classic writers, the language 
is ornate and somewhat stilted, and at the present 
day his works are scarcely known. Mason was the 
intimate friend of Gray, superintended the publica- 
tion of the poet's works, and wrote his Life. He 
died at Aston, April 5, 1797. 

Aabon Hill (1684-1749), best known through 
the conflict with Pope, on which he ventured after 
being satirized in the Dunciad. Seventeen plays 
are attributed to him, besides some other writings 
now altogether forgotten. The style is correct but 
cold, fashioned on the model of the French writers. 

Wm. Whitehead (1715-1788), poet laureate on 
the death of Cibber, after Gray had refused the oflice. 
He wrote seven dramas, of which the most impor- 
tant are the Roman Father, 1750, and Creusa, 1754. 

De. James Gbaingee (1721-1767) was bom at 
Dunse, county Berwick, was a surgeon in the army, 
and afterwards went to the West Indies. He wrote 
the Sugar Cane, whi ~h has been severely dealt with 
by tlie critics. He calls the negroes " swains." 

Among the translators of this age are to be men- 
tioned— 

Gilbert West (1705-1756), who translated Pin- 
dar, 1749, and wrote some original works. He was 
a friend and connection of Pitt and Lyttelton, and 
was appointed by Townshend one of the Clerks of 
the Privy Council. He is now best known by his 
Observations on the Resuimection (1730). Lord 
Lyttelton addressed to hinr M^ " Dissertation on tbe 
Conversion of St. Paul." (See p. 347, A.) 

Elizabeth Carter (1717-1806), who published 
a translation of Epictetus in 1758, besides various 
original-poems, was most highly esteemed by John- 
son, and her Ode tu Wisdom is given by Richard- 
son in his second novel, Clarissa Harlowe. 

The principal Scottish poet of this period is — 

Robert Febgusson (1750-1774), who was bom 
in Edinburgh, educated at St. Andrew's, and died 
at an early age, having ruined his health by dissi- 
pation. His style and manner exercised no small 
influence upon Bums, whose " poetical progenitor " 
he has been called. His successful pieces are in th* 
Scotch dialect. 



A.D. 1728-1811.] ^ BISHOP PERCY: 375 

CHAPTER XX. 

WALTER SCOTT. 

$ 1. Romantic scbool. Influence of Bishop Percy's Relfques of Ancient Poe- 
try. § 2. Walter Scott. His life and writings. § 3. His poems. § 4. Lay 
of the Last Minstrel, Marmion, and the Lady of the Lake. § 5. Rokeby, Lord of 
the Isles, andminor poems. §6. Classification of the TFarer/eyi\'"ore/5. §7. Char- 
acteristics of the Novels. Waverley. Guy Manriering. The Antiquary. Rob 
Roy. ^ 8. Tales of My Landlord : — The Black Dwarf. Old Mortality. 
The Heart of Mid-Lothian. The Bride of Lammermoor. The Legend of 
Montrose. ^ 9. Icanhoe. The Monastery and The Abbot. Kenilworth. The 
Pirate. ^ 10. Nigel. Peveril of the Peak. Qitentin Durward. St. Ronan's 
Well. Redgnuntlet. (J 11. Tales of the Crusaders : — The Betrothed and The 
Talisman. Woodstock. ^12. Chronicles of the Canongate : — The Highland 
Widow, The Two Drovers, The Surgeon's Daughter, and The Fair Maid of 
Perth. Anne of Geierstein. Count Robert of Paris, and Castle Dangerous. 

§ 1. The great revolution in taste, substituting romantic for classical 
sentiment and subjects, which culminated in the poems and novels of 
Walter Scott, is traceable to the labors of Bishop Percy (1728-1811). 
The friend of Johnson, and one of- the most accomplished members of 
that circle in which Johnson was supreme, Percy was strongly impressed 
with the vast stores of the beautiful, though rude, poetry which lay 
buried in obscure collections of ballads and legendary compositions, 
and he devoted himself to the task of explaining and popularizing the 
then neglected beauties of these old rhapsodists with the ardor of an 
antiquary and with the taste of a true poet. His publication in 1765, 
under the title of Reliques of Ancient English Poetry, of a collection 
of such ballads, many of which had been preserved only in manuscript, 
while others, having originally been printed in the rudest manner on 
flying sheets for circulation among the lower orders of the people, had 
owed their preservation only to the care of collectors, must be consid- 
ered as a critical epoch in the history of our literature. Many author^ 
before him, as for example Addison and Sir Philip Sidney, had ex- 
pressed the admiration which a cultivated taste must ever feel for the 
rough but inimitable graces of our old ballad-poets; but Percy was the 
first who undertook an examination, at once systematic and popular, 
of those neglected treasures. His Essay on the Ancient Minstrels, pre- 
fixed to the pieces he selected, exhibits considerable research, and is 
written in a pleasing and attractive manner; and the extracts are made 
with great taste, and with a particular view of exciting the public sym- 
pathy in favor of a class of compositions, the merits of which were 
then new and unfamiliar to the general reader. It is true that he did 
not always adhere with scrupulous fidelity to the ancient texts, and 
where the poems were in a fragmentary and imperfect condition he did 



376 WALTER SCOTT. ^ [Chap XX. 

not hesitate, any more than Scott after him in the Border Minstrelsy, 
to fill up the rents of time with matter of his own invention. This, 
however, at a period when his chief object was to excite among gen- 
eral readers an interest in these fine old monuments of mediaeval genius, 
was no unpardonable offence, and gave him the opportunity of exhibit- 
ing his own poetical powers, which were far from contemptible, and his 
skill in imitating, with more or less success, the language and manner 
of the ancient Border poets. Percy found, in collecting these old com- 
positions, that the majority of those most curious from their antiquity 
and most interesting from their merit were distinctly traceable, both as 
regards their subjects and the dialect in which they were written, to the 
North Countree, that is, to the frontier region between England and 
Scotland, which, during the long wars that had raged almost without 
intermission between the Borderers on both sides of the Debatable 
Land, had necessarily been the scene of the most frequent and striking 
incidents of predatory warfare, such as those recorded in the noble 
ballads of Chevy Chase and the Battle of Otterburn. The language 
in the Northern marches of England and in the Scottish frontier region 
bordering upon them, was one and the same dialect; something between 
the Lowland Scotch and the speech of Cumberland or Westmoreland ; 
and it is curious to find the ballad-singer modifying the incidents of his 
legend so as to suit the prejudices and flatter the national pride of his 
listeners according as they were inhabitants of the Northern or South- 
ern district. In various independent copies or versions of the same 
legend, we find the victory given to the one side or to the other, and 
the English or Scottish hero alternately playing the nobler and more 
romantic part. Besides a very large number of these purely heroic 
ballads, Percy gave specimens af an immense series of songs and lyr- 
ics extending down to a comparatively late period of English history, 
embracing even the Civil War and the Restoration ; but the chief inter- 
est of his collection, and the chief service he rendered to literature by 
his publication, is concentrated on the earlier portion. It is impossible 
to exaggerate the influence exerted by Percy's Reliques : this book has 
been devoured with the most intense interest by generation after gener- 
ation of English poets, and has undoubtedly contributed to give a first 
direction to the j'outhful genius of many of our most illustrious wri- 
ters. The boyish enthusiasm of Walter Scott was stirred, " as with the 
sound of a trumpet," by the vivid recitals of the old Border rhapso- 
dists ; and but for Percy it is possible that we should have had neither 
the Lady of the Lake nor Waverley. Nor was it upon the genius of 
Scott alone that is impressed the stamp of this ballad imitation : Words- 
worth, Coleridge, even Tennyson himself have been deeply modified, 
in the form and coloring of their productions, by the same cause; and 
perhaps the influence of the Reliques, whether direct or indirect, near 
or remote, will be perceptible to distant ages in English poetry and 
fiction. 

§ 2. Literary history presents few examples of a career so splendid 
as that of W\l''ER Scott (1771-1832). A genius at once so vigorous 



A. D. 1771-1832.] WALTER SCOTT. 877 

and versatile, a productiveness so magnificent and so sustained, will 
with difficulty be found, though we ransack the wide realms of ancient 
and modern letters. He occupies an immense space in the intellectual 
horizon of the nineteenth century; and it will be no easy task to de- 
lineate, at once cleai-ly and rapidl}', the features of this colossal figure. 
He was born in 1771, the son of a respectable Writer to the Signet in 
Edinburgh, and was connected, both by the father's and mother's side, 
with several of those ancient historic Border families whose warlike 
memories his genius was destined to make immortal. His constitution 
was at first weakly; and an accident he met with in childhood caused a 
deformity in one of his feet, and rendered it necessary that he should 
pass some time in country air. For this purpose he was sent to the farm 
of his grandfather near Kelso, where he was surrounded with legends, 
ruins, and localities, of which he was to make in his works so admi- 
rable a use. Though remarkable neither at the High School nor at the 
University of Edinburgh, where he finished his education, for anything 
but good nature and a love for athletic sports, he had alwaj^s been a 
devourer of miscellaneous books — his taste and inclination naturally 
leading him to prefer fiction, and chiefly the picturesque fiction, whether 
couched in prose or verse, of medicEval chivalry. On leaving the Uni- 
versity he was destined to the profession of the bar, and he practised 
during some time as an advocate before the Scottish tribunals : his real 
vocation was, however, that of letters; and his legal experience did 
little more for him than furnish him with hints of incidents and traits 
of human nature which he afterwards worked up with admirable effect 
in his romances. He was unsuccessful in obtaining the object of his 
first love; but he soon consoled himself, with that singular good sense 
which marked nearly all his conduct, and contracted an early and a 
happy marriage with a young lady of French extraction, named Car- 
penter. The first literary direction of his mind was towards the poetical 
and antiquarian curiosities of the Middle Ages; but just at that time 
there had been awakened among the intellectual circles of Edinburgh 
a taste for German literature, then only just beginning to become known, 
and Scott contributed several translations, as that of Goethe's £rl- 
Konig, of the Lenore of Burger, and afterwards the whole drama of 
Gotz of the IroJi Hand. Scott was now residing with his 3^oung wife at 
Lasswade, and his position was probably as happy as can be conceived. 
He conceived the plan of rescuing from oblivion the large stores of 
Border ballads which were still current among the descendants of the 
Liddesdale and Annandale moss-troopers, and travelled into those pic- 
turesque regions, where he accumulated not only a vast treasure of 
imedited legends and fragments of legends, but familiarized himself 
with the scenery and manners of that country over which he was to 
cast the magic of his genius. The result of his researches he published 
as Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border ; and in the skill with which he 
edited these poems, the immense and picturesque erudition with which 
he illustrated them, and the admirable manner in which he related 
striking and interesting facts connected with their elucidation, it was 
32* 



378 WALTER SCOTT. [Chap. XX. 

easy to see the germ of the great romantic poet, as well as of the anti- 
quarian, then without a rival in historic and legendary lore. The 
learning and taste of this work gave Scott a high reputation, and in 
some degree contributed to induce him to abandon the profession of the 
law for that of literature. He was still further confirmed in his project 
by receiving the appointment of Sheriff of Selkirkshire, the duties of 
which left much leisure at his disposal. He afterwards continued his 
task of editor by publishing the old romance of S/r Tristrem^ which he 
elucidated by a commentary ; and also the very curious rhythmical 
poem of Thomas of Ercyldoutie^ whose prophecies had been regarded 
from the thirteenth century downwards with traditional awe and rever- 
ence. He now changed his residence to the pretty villa of Ashestiti 
on the Tweed, and in 1805 first burst upon the world in the quality of a 
great original romantic poet. It is difficult for us in the present day to 
conceive the rapture of enthusiasm with which the public received the 
rapid and dazzling succession of Scott's poems. They were poured 
forth with an unstinted freshness and uninterrupted rapidity from the 
abov^e year till 1815, when he was as suddenly to burst forth with still 
greater splendor and still more wonderful fertility in a completely new 
and different line. Between 1805 and 1814 appeared the Lay of the 
Last Minstrel^ Marmion, the Lady of the Lake, Rokeby, and the Lord 
of the Isles ; not to enumerate a number of less important and less 
successful works, such as the Vision of Don Roderick, the Bridal of 
Triermain, Harold the Dauntless, and the Field of Waterloo, the first 
and last of which were written with the special purpose of celebrating 
the triumph over Napoleon, and which, as is generally the case with 
such productions, are unworthy of the author's genius. In about 
twelve years this kingly poet poured forth five works of considerable 
length, perfectly original in subject and construction, and which abso- 
lutely revolutionized the pflblic taste. Though considerably varied in 
scenery and dramatis personce, the narrative romantic fictions which so 
rapidly succeeded each other were found, after some repetitions, to pall to 
a certain degree upon the public taste ; and perhaps the very frenzy of 
enthusiasm which had welcomed the rich, vivid, and picturesque revival 
of the ancient chivalric poetry in the Lay, the Lady of the Lake, and 
Marmion, made the reader more ready to find some falling-off of interest 
in Rokeby and the Lord of the Isles. It is certain that the popularity 
of Scott's poetry, though still very great, perceptibly declined with the 
former of these two works, which is partly to be attributed to the choice 
of an historical period for the action either less picturesque in itself or 
less favorable for the display of Scott's peculiar talent, than that remote 
epoch in which his immense knowledge caused him to be without a 
rival. Fully aware of the decline of his popularity, and with manly 
sense and dignified yet modest self-consciousness attributing it to its 
true cause just specified, and also perhaps in some degree to the star- 
tling sunrise of Byron's genius above the horizon, Scott, without a word 
of querulous complaint, immediately abandoned poetry to launch into 
9 new career — a career in which he could have neither equal nor 
«econct. 



A. D. 1771-1832.] WALTER SCOTT. 379 

In 1814 appeared Waverley, the commencement of which had been 
sketched out and thrown aside nine jears before; and with Waverley 
began that inimitably series of romances which poured forth with a 
splendor and facilitj-- surpassing even that of the poems. During the 
seventeen years intervening between 1814 and 1831 were written that 
collection, that library, or rather that whole literature of fiction, to 
which is generallj-- given, from the title of the first, the name of the 
Waverley Novels, and which were produced with such inconceivable 
rapidity, that on comparing the number of these fictions, amounting 
to upwards of thirty independent works, almost all of them of consid- 
erable length, with the time during which they were composed, the 
result gives the surprising average of about two of such works in one 
year; and in reality there were years when Scott produced as many as 
three distinct novels. Our wonder at such fertility is still further aug- 
mented, when we learn, that during this period Scott succeeded in 
writing, independently of the above fictions, a considerable number of 
works in the departments of history, criticism, and biography. I may 
mention only the Life of Napoleon, the Tales of a Grandfather, the 
amusing Letters on Demonology and Witchcraft, and e* tensive edi- 
tions, with Lives, of Dryden and Swift. Such activity Is rare indeed 
in the history of letters ; still rarer, when combined with such general 
excellence in the products. One principal secret of this enormous pro- 
ductiveness is to be found in Scott's passionate and long-cherished 
ambition to found a territorial family, and to be able to live the life of 
a provincial magnate. Spurred on by this desire, and encouraged by 
the immense pecuniary profits which accrued from his works, Scott 
went on purchasing land, planting and improving, and transforming 
the modest cottage of Abbotsford on his beloved Tweed into a " ro- 
mance in stone and lime," a baronial residence crowded with the rarest 
objects of mediaeval antiquity. Here he exercised a truly princely hos- 
pitality, receiving every traveller of distinction, and "doing the hon- 
ors of all Scotland " to those who were attracted in crowds by the splen- 
dor of his genius. The very large and continually-increasing outlay 
necessitated by this mode of life he supplied partly by his inexhausti- 
ble pen, and partly by engaging secretly in large commercial specula- 
tions with the printing and publishing firm of the Ballantynes, his 
intimate friends and schoolfellows. These latter speculations, though 
for a time productive, became ere long disastrous in the extreme ; and 
the Ballantynes were involved in the fatal commercial crisis of 1825 and 
1826, which also reached and ruined the still vaster speculations of 
Constable and Co., with whom indeed the Ballantynes' affairs were 
connected. Scott found himself ruined, and responsible for a gigantic 
amount of debt. He might easily have escaped from his liabilities by 
taking advantage of the bankrupt law; but his sense of honor was so 
high and delicate that he only asked for time, and resolutely set himself 
to clear off, by unremitting literary toil, the vast accumulation of nearly 
120,000/. He all but accomplished his colossal task, nay, he did sub- 
6tant'!ally accomplish it, but he died under the effort; nor does the 



880 WALTER SCOTT. [Chap. XX. 

history either of literature or commeice afford a brighter example of 
probity. The manifest inferiority of several of his last novels, as Cotcni 
Robert of Paris and Castle Dangerous, and the somewhat gloomy and 
despondent tone which replaces, in those written after the crisis of his 
misfortunes, Scott's peculiarly healthy and joyous view ®f humanity, 
become, to those who know the history of this heroic struggle, facts 
and indications more touching than would have been the full continu- 
ance of Scott's wonderful powers. They tell, like the tottering step of 
the wounded gladiator, or the slackening pace of the noble steed, the 
failing of the powers so generously lavished. There is no more touching 
or sublime spectacle than that of this great genius, in the full pleni- 
tude of his powers, voluntarily and without a word of repining aban- 
doning that splendor he was so well qualified to adorn, and that rural 
life which he so well knew how to appreciate, and shutting himself 
up in a small house in Edinburgh, to wipe out, by incessant lit- 
erary taskw^ork, the liabilities which he hjd too much delicacy to 
evade. 

In 1820 Scott had been raised to the dignity of the baronetcy; for 
the enchanting series of the Waverley Novels, though anonymously 
published, were universally ascribed to him, as to the only man in 
Great Britain whose peculiar acquirements and turn of genius could 
have given birth to them, though those who saw Scott familiarly could 
hardly understand how the hospitable, sport-loving country gentleman, 
whose time seemed always at the disposal of his friends, could have 
found leisure for the mere physical amount of labor implied in the me- 
chanical composition of such voluminous works. The secret was 
explained by the fact that Scott had always adopted the invaluable 
practice of early rising; and was thus able, after devoting the first 
hours of morning to composition, to give the remainder of the day to 
pleasure and to his oflScial duties. The mystery of the true authorship 
of the Waverley Novels, though it had been long a very transparent one, 
was maintained by Scott with great care ; and it was not till the failure 
of Ballantynes' house rendered concealment any longer impossible that 
he formally avowed himself the author of these fictions. Towards the 
year 1830, his mind, exhausted by such incessant toil, began to show 
symptoms of hopeless weakness. A stroke of paralysis affected his 
memory so much that, though he still continued to labor as eagerly as 
before, he sometimes forgot the commencement of the phrase he was 
dictating; and he was sent abroad to Italy and the Mediterranean in 
the vain hope of re-establishing his health. He returned home to die ; 
and after lingering in a state of almost complete unconsciousness for a 
short time, this great and good man terminated his earthly career on 
the 2ist of September, 1832, at Abbotsford, on the estate which his 
exertions had restored to his posterity. His personal character is al- 
most perfect. High-minded, generous, and hospitable to the extreme, he 
hardly had an enemy or a misunderstanding during the whole of a long 
and active career. He was the delight of society; for his conversation, 
though unpretending, kindly, and jovial, was filled with that union of 



A. D. 1771^1832.] WALTER SCOTT. 381 

old-world lore and acute and picturesque observation which renders his 
works so enchanting ; and there never perhaps was a man so totally free 
from the pettinesses and affectations to which men of letters are prone. 
In his opinions he was a Tory of the most uncompromising stamp, 
which was natural enougTi in a man whose tastes and reading had been 
directed as his were ; but of Toryism he exhibited only the gallant and 
chivalric side, and was totally free from its meaner and more narrow- 
minded features. He was emphatically a great and a good man, an 
honor to his age, to his country, and to human nature. 

§ 3. The romantic narrative poems of Scott form an epoch in the 
history of modern literature. In their subjects, their versification, and 
their treatment, they were a novelty and an innovation, the success 
of which was as remarkable as their execution was brilliant. The 
materials were derived from the legend^s and exploits of mediaeval 
chivalry, and the persons were borrowed partly from history and partly 
from imagination. Scott showed a power somewhat akin to that dis- 
played by Shakspeare in combining into one harmonious whole actions 
partly borrowed from true history and partly filled up from fictitious 
invention ; and in clothing the former with the romantic hues of imagi- 
nation and picturesque fancy he showed his power no less than in giving 
to the latter the solidity and reality of truth. The theatre of his action 
was generally placed in that picturesque border region which spoke so 
powerfully to his heart, with whose romantic legends he was so won- 
derfully familiar, and which furnished, from the inexhaustible stores of 
his memory, such a mass of striking incident and vivid detail. The 
notes which he appended in illustration of his poems, like those in 
which he had elucidated the relics of ballad minstrelsy, show how vast 
was his treasury of antique lore ; and these relics of antiquarian erudi- 
tion are lighted up with a glow of picturesque and poetical imagination 
which transforms the dry bones of mediseval learning into the splen- 
did and living body of feudal revival. The greatest of these poems are 
unquestionably the three first — the Lay of the Last Minstrel, Marmion, 
and the Lady of the Lake. According to Scott's own judgment, the 
interest of the Lay depends mainly upon the style, that of Marmion 
upon the descriptions, that of ihe Lady of the Lake upon the incidents. 
The form adopted in all these works, though it may be remotely referred 
to a revival of the spirit and modes of thought of the ancient French and 
Anglo-Norman Trouveres, was more immediately suggested, as Scott 
himself has confessed, by the example of Coleridge, who in his wild 
and irregular, but exquisitelj^ musical and fanciful poems — as, for in- 
stance, Christabel — gave, so to say, the kej^-note upon which Scott 
composed his vigorous and varied harmony. The real measure of the 
Trouveres, the octosyllable-rhymed verse, was far too monotonous, and 
too liable to degenerate into tediousness to be likely to please a fas- 
tidious age. Scott, therefore, though employing this measure generally 
as the basis of his narrative passages, — for which purpose, from its 
ease and fluency, it is extremely well adapted, — had the good taste to 
vary and enliven it by a frequent intermixture of all other sorts of Eng- 



382 WALTER SCOTT. [Chap. XX. 

lish verse, anapsestic, trochaic, or dactylic. But his principal metrical 
expedient was the frequent employment of two, three, or four verses of 
octosyllabic structure, rhyming together, and relieved at frequent inter- 
/v-als by a short Adonic verse of six syllables, giving at once great vigor 
and exquisite melod^'. The versification is more varied in the Lay than 
in the succeeding poems ; and this work exhibits, with some traces of 
haste and inexperience, more of the Ij^ric spirit, and perhaps more also 
of the true fire and glow of inspiration, than either of its successors. 
The plots or intrigues of these poems are in general neither very prob- 
able nor very logically constructed, but they allow the poet ample op- 
portunities for striking situations and picturesque episodes. The char- 
acters are discriminated rather by broad and vigorous strokes than by 
any attempt at moral analysis or strong .delineation of passion. They 
are drawn, so to say, from ivithout^ and not elaborated from within. 
The personages are rather general types of chivalric gallantrj-^ and 
female beauty and tenderness than individual men and women : they 
would interest us nearly as much were they impersonal and without 
names — the knight, the man-at-arms, the palmer, or the lady ; and 
they derive their power of charming us less from their own individual 
feelings and experiences than from the admirable power, vivacity, and 
freshness of the incidents in which they move, and the details with 
which they are surrounded. Thus they resemble, in some degree, the 
figures introduced by Salvator Rosa in his landscapes, where the 
brigands owe their impressiveness to the magnificent background of 
rock and waterfall. The personages of Byron, on the contrary, like 
the figures of Titian, communicate their own coloring and sentiment 
to the landscape against which they are relieved. In his descriptions 
of scenery, which are exceedingly varied and intensely vivid, Scott some- 
times indulges in a quaint but graceful vein of moralizing which beau- 
tifully connects inanimate nature with the sentiments of the human 
heart. A charming instance of this will be found in the opening de- 
scription of Rokeby. 

§ 4. The action of the Lay of the Last Minstrel is drawn from the 
legends of Border war; and necromantic agency, the tourney, the raid, 
and the attack on a strong castle, are successively described with una- 
bating fire and energy. The midnight expedition of Deloraine to the 
wizard's tomb in Melrose Abbey, the ordeal of battle, the alarm, the 
feast, and the penitential procession, are painted with the force and 
picturesqueness of real scenes. Nothing is more wonderful than 
the completeness with which the poet throws himself back into past 
ages, and speaks and thinks like a minstrel of the fourteenth century. 
The various cantos of his poems Scott generally connects together by 
some kind of framing or setting, often very ingenious in itself, and 
giving him the opportunity for introducing some of his most beautiful 
descriptions or most attractive reflections. Thus the fiction of the old 
Minstrel, who is supposed to recite the Lay for the amusement of the 
Duchess of Buccleuch, the introductory prefaces of each canto of Mar- 
miotiy giving us such an enchanting glimpse into Scott's own rural and 



A. D. 1771-1832.] WALTER SCOTT. 383 

family life, are not only beautiful in themselves, but most artfully 
relieve the monotony of the principal subject. 

In Marmion the main action is of a loftier and more historical nature, 
and the catastrophe is made to coincide with the description of the 
great battle of Flodden, in which Scott gave earnest of powers in this 
department of painting hardly inferior to those of Homer himself. It 
is indeed *' a fearful battle rendered you in music;" and the whole 
scene, from the rush and fury of the onset down to the least heraldic 
detail or minute trifle of armor and equipment, is delineated with the 
truth of an eye-witness. Much fault has been found with the awkward 
oversight of making the hero, a brave but unscrupulous warrior, guilty 
of so unknightly a crime as that of forging documents ; and similar 
objections have been made to the whole episode of the goblin page, who 
plays such fantastic pranks in the Lay ; but such blemishes are more 
than compensated by the scene of the opening of the tomb in the 
latter poem, and by those of the battle and of the immuring of Con- 
stance in Marmion. 

In the Lady of tJie Lake Scott broke up new and fertile ground ; he 
brought into contact the wild, half-savage mountaineers of the High- 
lands and the refined and chivalrous court of James V. The exquisite 
scenery of Loch Katrine became, when invested by the magic of the 
descriptions, the chief object of the traveller's pilgrimage ; and it is no 
exaggeration to say, as Macaulay has done, that the glamour of the 
great poet's genius has forever hallowed not only the nature thus first 
shown in all its loveliness to the curiosity of the world, but even the 
barbarous tribes whose manners Scott has invested with all the charms 
of fiction. The adventures of the disguised king, whose gallant and 
chivalrous character is very dramatically sustained, the dark and som- 
bre Roderick Dhu, and the graceful tenderness of Ellen Douglas, are 
combined and contrasted with skill ; but perhaps the finest passage in 
this noble poem is the description by the Highland Bard of the Battle 
of Beal an Dhuine, and the death of the captive chieftain as he is 
listening to the fiery lay. Scott delighted in painting both the great 
warfare of the Middle Ages, and the lesser warfare, as it may be justly 
styled, of the chase ; and the episode of the stag-hunt at the commence- 
ment of this poem is one of the most spirited of the numerous pictures 
of this kind. It is curious that that personality or individuality which 
I have asserted to be often wanting in the human characters of Walter 
Scott's poetry, is always to be found in his inimitable portraits of dogs 
and horses. This poem, as well as the others, aflfords striking instances 
of the truth and reality of his sketches of these noble animals. The 
sudden appearance of Roderick Dhu and his clan at Coilantogle Ford, 
the equally sudden vanishing of the armed men at the signal of their 
chief, and the combat between the royal adventurer Fitz-James with his 
fierce but chivalrous antagonist, are highly dramatic, and exhibit that 
noble and gallant spirit — the fine flower of chivalric bravery and cour- 
tesy — which so universally pervades Scott's poetry, as it animated his 
personal character ; for not even the accomplished Sidney himself pos- 



384 WALTER SCOTT. [Chap. XX. 

sessed to a more intense degree the mind and feelings which essentially 
mark what we call a ge7ttlcman. In his splendid and courtly scenes, 
of which a good example will be found in the conclusion of this tale, 
where the Knight of Snowdoun discloses himself in his real character 
to Ellen, we observe this lofty and gallant tone of sentiment; as far 
removed from theatrical emphasis on the one hand as it is from trivial- 
ity on the other; and not excluding a kind of graceful and princely 
playfulness on occasion, which makes his noble personages the ideal 
of knightly courtesy. 

§ 5. The tale of Rohehy contains many beautiful descriptions, and 
exhibits stfienuous efforts to draw and contrast individual characters 
with force, as in the case of the ruffian buccaneer Risingham, Oswald, 
and Philip Northam; but the epoch — that of the Civil Wars of the 
Commonwealth — was one in which Scott obviously felt himself less 
at home than in his well-beloved feudal ages : at all events the mixture 
of feudal sentiment which clung to the poet's mode of feeling and treat- 
ment did not harmonize with the epoch selected for the action ; and 
the sentimental sensitive lover who is the centre of the plot was gener- 
ally found to be insipid and improbable. 

The last of the greater poems, the Lord of the Isles, went back to 
Scott's favorite epoch, if not indeed somewhat farther back than was 
altogether advantageous for the success of the poem ; for the exploits 
of Robert Bruce have a sort of half-mythical remoteness and vagueness 
which almost defied even Scott's wonderful power of realizing to make 
them palpable to the reader's belief. Nevertheless the voyage of the 
hero-king among the Isles, the scenes in the Castle of Artornish, the 
description of the savage and terrific desolation of the Western High- 
lands, show little diminution in picturesque power; and the subject gave 
the author the opportunity of terminating the action with one of those 
glorious battle-scenes in which he was unrivalled, and in which no 
modern poet, save Macaulay alone, and he was indeed an imitator of 
Scott, can be said even to have approached him. The Battle of Ban- 
nockburn reminds us of the hand that drew the field of Flodden ; and 
Scott's ardent patriotism must have found pleasure in delineating the 
great victory of his country's independence, after having so gloriously 
described that fatal day when that independence was, for a time at 
least, destroyed. 

Harold the Dauntless and the Bridal of Trtermaht must be regarded 
rather as half-serious, half-comic, poetical jettx d' esprit than as works 
on which the author wished to found his reputation. They are written 
in a less vigorous and muscular style than the poems I have been exam- 
ining; the latter indeed was playfully intended to pass off upon the 
public as the production of Scott's friend Erskine. In Triermain we 
see a somewhat effeminate and theatrical treatment of a striking legend 
which figures in the cycle of the exploits of Arthur; and the confusion 
of time involved in the waking the lady from her enchanted sleep of 
ages is fatal to the coherency of the interest. Harold strives to com- 
bine the spirit of the old Berserk sagas with Christian and Chivalric 



A. D. 1771-1832.] HAROLD. DON RODERICK, Z%^ 

manners, and the union of the two elements is too discordant to be 
pleasing. The Vision of Don Roderick, though based upon a strik- 
ing and picturesque tradition, is principally a song of triumph over the 
recent defeat of the French arms in the Peninsula ; but the moment 
he leaves the medieeval battle-field Scott seems to lose half his power: 
in this poem, as in Waterloo, his combats are neither those of feudal 
knights nor of modern soldiers, and there is throughout a struggle 
painfully visible to be emphatic and picturesque. Indeed it may be 
said that almost all poems made to order, and written to celebrate con- 
temporary events, have this forced and artificial air. Many of Scott's 
shorter ballads, Glenfinlas, the Eve of St. John, as well as innumera- 
ble lyrics, playful or heroic, either standing alone or introduced as 
songs in his longer poems, are of incomparable beauty : I need only 
mention the intense warlike fury so gloriously embodied in the Pibroch 
of Doniul Dim, the unsurpassable grace and gallantry of Toting Locli- 
invar, which Lady Heron sings in Martnion, and the broad yet sly 
jollity of Donald Caird, a lyric not unworthy of Burns himself. 

§ 6. If we apply to the long and splendid series of prose fictions gen- 
erally known under the name of the Waverley Novels, the same rough 
analytical distribution as has been adopted in a former chapter for the 
purpose of giving a classification of Shakspeare's dramas, we shall 
obtain the following results. The novels are twenty-nine in number, 
of varied, though for the most part extraordinary degrees of excellence. 
They may be divided into the two main classes of Historical, or such 
as derive their principal interest and material from the delineation of 
some real persons or events, and those which are entirely or principally 
founded upon Private Life or Family Legend, and which are more 
remotely, if at all, connected with history. The first of these two great 
classes will naturally subdivide into subordinate categories, according 
to the epoch or country selected by the author, as Scottish, English, 
and Continental history. According to this rude, and merely approxi- 
mative method of classification, we shall range seven works under the 
class of Scottish history, seven under English, also of various epochs, 
and three will belong to the Continental department ; while the novels 
mainly assignable to the head of Private Life, sometimes, it is true, 
more or less connected, as in the cases of Rob Roy and Redgauntlet, 
with historical events, are twelve in number. The latter class are for 
the most part of purely Scottish scenery and character. I will draw up 
a sort of rough scheme or plan of the above arrangement, which will at 
least be found to assist the memory in recalling such a vast and varied 
cycle of works, and I will afterwards make a few rapid remarks upon 
these novels in the order of their composition. 

I. History. 
I. Scottish . Waverley. The period of the Pretender's attempt in 

1745. 
Legend of Montrose. The Civil War in the sixteenth 
century. 
33 



886 WALTER SCOTT. [Chap. XX. 

Old Mortality. The rebellion of the Covenanters. 

Monastery. > The deposition and imprisonment of Marj 

Abbot. > Queen of Scots. 

Fair Maid of Perth. The reign of David. 

Castle Dangerous. The time of the Black Douglas. 

II. English . Jvanhoe. The return of Richard Cceur de Lion from 

the Holy Land. 
Keniltvortk. The reign of Elizabeth. 
Fortunes of Nigel. Reign of James I. 
Peveril of the Peak. Reign of Charles II. ; period of 

the pretended Catholic plot. 
Betrothed. The wars of the Welsh Marches. 
Talisman. The first Crusade : Richard Coeur de Lion. 
Woodstock. The Civil War and Commonwealth. 

III. Continental . ^uentin Durvjard. Louis XI. and Charles the 

Bold. 
Anne of Geierstein. The epoch of the battle of Nancy. 
Count Robert of Paris. The Crusaders at Byzantium. 

II. Private Life and Mixed. 

Guy Mannering. Heart of Midlothian. Redgauntlet. 

Antiquary. Bride of Lammermoor. Surgeon's Daughter, 

Black Dwarf. Pirate. Two Drovers. 

Rob Roy. St. Ronan's Well. Highland Widow. 

§ 7. In this unequalled series of fictions the author's power of bring- 
ing near and making palpable to us the remote and historical, whether 
of persons, places, or events, is equally wonderful with the skill and 
certainty with which he clothes with solidity, so to say, the conceptions 
of his own imagination. In this respect his genius has something in 
common with that of Shakspeare, as shown in his historical dramas : 
and the two great creators have also this peculiarity in common, that 
their most secondarj* and subordinate characters stand out from the 
canvas with the same relief and vigor as the more prominent dramatis 
Personce. Scott was generally careless in the construction of his plots : 
he wrote with great rapidity, and aimed rather at picturesque effect 
than at logical coherency of intrigue ; and his powerful imagination 
carried him away so vehemently, that the delight he must have felt in 
developing the humors and adventures of one of those inimitable per- 
sons he had invented — often by no means a chief protagonist in his 
action — sometimes left him no space for the elaboration of an intrigue 
which he in some cases had thought out beforehand. An example of 
this will be found, among a multitude of others, in the case of Dugald 
Dalgetty, or Baillie Nicol Jarvie. His stj'le, though always easy and 
animated, is far from being careful or elaborate, and a curious amount 
of Scotticisms will be met vrith in almost every chapter. Description, 
whether of scenery, incident, or personal appearance, is very abundant 
in his works : and though this is sometimes carried so far as to become 



A. D. 1771-1832.] WA VERLET NO VELS. 887 

tedious to foreign readers, few of his countrymen, whether North or 
South Britons, will be found to complain of his luxuriance in this 
respect, for it has filled his pages with bright and vivid pictures that 
no lapse of time can efface from the reader's memory. 

In Waverley this mixture of the historical with the familiar is carried 
out with consummate success ; and the union of the stirring and ro- 
mantic element with the most familiar humor gives to the story the 
largeness and the variety of life itself. The character of Baron Brad- 
wardine and the description of his household are easily and yet power- 
fully contrasted with the Highland scenes, and they again flow natu- 
rally into the main action of the romantic campaign of Charles Edward. 
The innumerable personal adventures and scenes through which the 
hero passes, both in Scotland and England, have that combination of 
lively interest and fresh out-of-door humor which is so delightful in 
Fielding; and it is to the eternal honor of Scott that in spite of the 
immense variety of incidents and personages with which he brings us 
in contact, he is entirely free from every trace of that coarseness and 
immorality which stain the writings of the author of Tom Jones. 
Much of this superior tone of delicacy is doubtless to be attributed to 
the improvement in public taste which had taken place between the 
middle of the eighteenth and the beginning of the nineteenth century; 
but we must not forget that Scott, while successfully escaping, in con- 
formity with the spirit of his age, from the coarseness of tone which 
marked a former epoch, is equally free from the prevailing error of his 
own, a morbid and sickly sentimentalism, which often veiled real im- 
morality and more dangerous corruption under the guise of superior 
delicacy. His sentiments are invariably pure, manly, and elevated, 
and the spirit of the true gentleman is seen as clearly in his deep sym- 
pathy with the virtues of the poor and humble, as in the knightly 
fervor with which he paints the loftier feelings of the more educated 
classes. 

Guy Mannering is one of the finest of those romances the interest of 
which is mainly derived from the incidents of private life. The char- 
acter of Meg Merrilies is truly ideal, without the least overstepping 
the boundary of nature and probability: and the fellow-feeling of the 
great artist with the general sentiments of his race is visible in the 
redeeming qualities with which he invests even his most abandoned 
and flagitious personages, as Dick Hatteraick the smuggler, and even 
Glossin himself. The power of picturesque delineation was never more 
powerfully shown than in the multitude of descriptions in this power- 
ful tale ; and the mixture of the serious and humorous, the romantic 
and familiar, makes it one of the most truly characteristic of Scott. 
Dominie Sampson is a creation worthy of the greatest humorist that 
ever wrote. ^ 

T\\Q Antiquary \^ another admirable novel of familiar Scottisl>life. 
The character of Monkbarns, though certainly drawn from a real per- 
son, is an example of the most consummate art in idealizing matter- 
of-fact. It bears the same relation, for instance, to one of Gait's care- 



S88 WALTER SCOTT. [Chap. XX. 

fully elaborated transcripts of Scottish character, that a portrait by 
Reynolds does to a photograph. The scene of the danger and escape 
of Sir Arthur Wardour and his daughter, when nearly overwhelmed 
by the tide, is one of the most highly-wrought yet natural in fiction, 
and the reader who will carefully examine this passage will be sur- 
prised at the impressive effect produced by the simplest means. The 
dinner at the coenobitium of Monkbarns, and the scene of the seizure 
of the castle by Sir Arthur's creditors, are intensely humorous and 
intensely real at the same time : and the funeral of the young fisher- 
man and the death of the conscience-haunted old crone are among the 
simplest and most powerful effects of fiction. 

Rob Roy, among the novels, occupies a somewhat similar place to 
that of the Lady of the Lake among the poems. In this tale Scott 
brings into contact the wild and picturesque life of the Highlands, and 
the manners of the North of England and the burgess-life of Glasgow. 
The hero, the Robin Hood of Scotland, is a most impressive delinea- 
tion ; and the skill with which the humors of Baillie Jarvie are inter- 
woven with the stirring and tragic scenes of mountaineer life exhibits 
Scott's extraordinary powers when following out a story which inter- 
ested him, not only as an artist, but as an antiquarian in Scottish 
national legend. The attack on the English detachment in the defile, 
and the tremendous vengeance of Helen Macgregor on the cowardly 
spy Morris, is one of the most powerfully conceived scenes. 

§ 8. Several of the novels of Scott appeared connected together in 
different series, and, by an expedient often adopted to give an air of 
authenticity to fictitious compositions, their authorship is attributed to 
an imaginary writer. Thus the Black Dwarf Vind Old Mortality form 
the First Series of the Tales of My Landlord, the manuscript of which 
is supposed to have been left with a country innkeeper by Peter Pattie- 
son, a village schoolmaster, the fictitious author; the Second Series 
containing the Heart of Midlothian, and the Third the two tales of the 
Bride of Lammermoor and the Legend of Montrose. The fiction of 
Peter Pattieson is not one of the happiest, though it has given the author 
the opportunity for some charming descriptive passages in the intro- 
ductory part. The Black Z^war/* contains inimitable pictures of Border 
life and scenery ; and the first appearance of the wild and terrific per- 
sonage who gives a title to the tale is striking in the highest degree — 
not the less so when we know that the details are borrowed from a real 
outcast and misanthrope ; but the entrance, in the last scene, of the 
dwarf in his real character of Sir Edward Manley, to forbid the mar- 
riage, is singularly cold and ineffective. The Timon-like recluse of 
Mucklestane Muir is a far more impressive personage, and as long as 
he is kept in the mysterious half-light of obscurity he fills the reader 
with terror an<! curiosity. The Border moss-trooper, Willie of the West- 
burnflat, is a sketch of consummate vigor. 

Old Mortality is one of the vastest, completest, and most vivid pic- 
tures of an historical epoch that Scott has produced. The contrast 
between the gallant yet persecuting Cavaliers and the gloomy fanatical 



A. D. 1771-1832.] HEART OF MIBLOTniAN. 389 

Covenanters is very finely and dramatically maintained. The two 
skilfully opposed personages of Glaverhouse and Burley exhibit the 
author's unrivalled power of seizing and reproducing past ages. His 
knowledge, both in detail and in its general character, of the epoch 
which he painted, was immense, and in the vast variety of subordi- 
nate characters which crowd his canvas, the wild preachers, Serjeant 
Bothwell, Major Morton, the old lady of Tillitudlem, we see a truly 
Shakspearian richness of humor and invention. The scene in the hut 
after the defeat of the Covenanters, when they are preparing to put to 
death young Morton, is one of the highest efforts of breathless dra- 
matic interest. Scott is accused of allowing his strong Tory and 
Episcopalian prejudices to color bis portraiture of the two parties, and 
of painting Claverhguse in too favorable, and the persecuted Whigs in 
too gloomy a tone ; but we must not forget the never-failing air of 
general truth which pervades his pictures, nor the fact that while he 
certainly does full justice to the stern patriotism and fervent though 
mistaken piety of the victims, the qualities of the dominant party were 
in themselves more picturesqu'e and engaging than those of their op- 
ponents. The portrait of a sombre Puritan may indeed be admirable 
as a picture, but the eye will infallibly rest with more complacency on 
a knight or courtier by Velasquez. 

In the Heart of Midlothian the interest if, almost exclusively of a 
domestic kind, and concentrated on the sufferings of a humble peas- 
ant family : for though the Porteous riot, with which the tale opens, is 
to a certain degree historical, and is related with Scott's unfailing ani- 
mation and vividness, the reader's feelings are principally enlisted in 
favor of the heroism of Jeanie Deans and the fate of her unhappy sis- 
ter. That heroism, as is well known, was no invention, but a real 
transcript from the annals of humble life : but the weary pilgrimage 
of Jeanie, though founded upon the self-devotion of a real Helen Walk- 
er, is none the less powerfully narrated, and no less powerfully seizes 
on our sympathies. Her adventures on her journey to London, and in 
particular the scenes with Madge Wildfire, are of a high order of fic- 
tion — at once real and intense. 

The Bride of Lammermoor is the most tragic and gloomy in its tone 
of Scott's earlier romances,, which are generally characterized, like all 
his writings, by a gay, hopeful, and cheering tone of thought. The 
incidents on which it is founded were drawn from the annals of an 
ancient Scottish family. This story is perhaps one of the most impres- 
sive of them all : there reigns throughout, from the first page to the 
last painful catastrophe, a sort of atmosphere of sorrow and forebod- 
ing, that weighs upon the mind like the breathless pause that presages 
the hurricane. The action has been compared to that of the Greek 
tragedy. Fate, cruel and irresistible destiny, overshadows the whole 
horizon, and the innocent are hurried onward to their doom by the 
uncontrolled force of a pitiless fatality. The personage of the ISIastei 
of Ravens^A'ood is in a high degree impressive in its melancholy gran- 
deur ; anf terror and pitv are powerfully combined in the concluding 
33* 



390 WALTER SCOTT. [Chap. XX. 

scenes. The death of the hero, though desciibed with extreme sim- 
plicity, is pathetic in the extreme, and the finding pf the plume of his 
lost master by the faithful Caleb, " who dried it and placed it in his 
bosom," is a touch of intense and natural pathos. 

The Legend of Montrose is chiefly admirable for the inexhaustible 
humor of Dugald Dalgetty, whose selfishness, pedantry, and military 
quaintness render him one of the most amusing personages in fiction. 
This was a character after Scott's own heart, and being profoundly true 
not only to general nature but to particular individuality, we can easily 
understand the delight with which the author must have traced out its 
oddities and held it up in every light and attitude. 

§ 9. Ivanhoe was the first romance in which Scott undertook the 
delineation of a remote historical epoch. That which he selected was 
the eventful period when the process of fusion was going on which 
ultimately united the Norman oppressors and the Saxon serfs into one 
nationality. The whole tale is a dazzling succession of feudal pictures : 
the outlaw life of the green wood, the Norman donjon, the lists, the 
tournament, and the stake, pass before our eyes with a splendor and 
animation that are truly magical, and make us forget the occasional 
anachronisms and errors of costume. Robin Hood, under the name of 
Locksley, is most felicitously introduced, and the chivalric Lion-heart 
is powerfully contrasted with the meanness and tyranny of John. It 
has always struck me as a strong proof of the inherent nobility of 
Scott's nature, that while faithfully representing all the base and odious 
features of this wretch's character, he still preserves the princely char- 
acter, and makes John, though a coward, an ingrate, and a tyrant, 
retain the external manners of his royal blood. The personage of 
Rebecca is one of the most beautiful and ideal in fiction ; Scott is said 
to have considered it as his finest female character; and the heroism is 
never made incompatible either with probability or with what may be 
called historical verisimilitude. The drinking scene between the Black 
Knight and the jolly Hermit is full of humor and rollicking gayety, and 
the whole description of the Passage of Arms at Ashby is like an illu- 
minated MS. of tiie Middle Ages. The scene of the execution of the 
Jewess carries the reader's interest up to the highest point. 

The two stories of the Monastery and the Abbot form an uninterrupt- 
ed series of advejit«res. The life and manners of the times are painted 
with surprising force and variety : and the character of Mary Stuart 
predominates throughout the whole picture in all the grace and attrac- 
tiveness of its charms and of its misfortunes. The chivalrous and 
noble nature of Scott shines out brilliantly in every page of these 
stories; and we hardly blame him for the somewhat misplaced and 
melodramatic introduction in the former romance of the supernatural 
interposition of the White Lady of Avenel. The scenes of Mary's cap- 
tivity at Lochleven, and her escape, are intensely interesting: and tht 
characters of the two brothers Glendinning, the Knight and the Priest, 
are very picturesquely contrasted. 

Kenilvjorth paints, and with great vigor, the age of Elizabeth. The 



A. D. 1771-1832.] KENILWORTH, PIRATE. NIGEL. 391 

misfortunes of Amy Robsart ultimately culminate in a catastiophe 
almost too painful : but the characters of the Lion-Queen and her court 
stand out as in the historical dramas of Shakspeare. Perhaps there 
are few scenes more picturesque and telling than the forced reconcilia- 
tion of Leicester and Essex in the Queen's presence ; and her behavior, 
both there and on all the occasions when she appears, is consonant not 
only with abstract female nature, but is exquisitely appropriated to the 
particular nature of that great Princess. The episode of Wayland 
Smith is a melancholy example of the indiscriminate greediness with 
which a novelist is apt to press everything into his service : the trans- 
formation of the grand and mythical Daedalus of Scandinavian 
mythology into the cheat and quacksalver of the sixteenth century is 
extremely unfortunate : but it is more than compensated for by the 
touching episode of old Sir Walter Robsart's despair at the elopement 
of his daughter. 

In the enchanting tale of the Pirate Scott gives us the fruits of a 
pleasure expedition which he had taken to the Northern Archipelago : 
the wild, simple, half-Scandinavian manners of that region furnished 
him with fresh and unhackneyed dramatis fersonce, which he placed 
amid scenery then almost unknown, and possessing a powerful interest. 
The two sisters, Minna and Brenda, are among the most graceful and 
highly finished of his female portraits ; and Noma of the Fitful Head is 
a creation of the same order as Meg Merrilies, though certainly inferior 
on the whole. The description of the wreck of the ' Revenge ' is very 
powerfully written ; and the festivities in the house of the glorious old 
Udaller are painted with unflagging verve. This novel offers two ex- 
amples of injudicious harping upon one topic — a fault which Scott, 
like many other novelists, occasionally falls into. Claude Halcro, with 
his eternal recollections of Dryden, is singularly out of place in the 
Orkneys, though not more so than Jack Bunce, with his flighty manners 
and quotations from rhyming tragedies, among the ruffian crew of the 
pirate. Goffe, however, is a little sketch of consummate merit. 

§ 10. London in the reign of James I., the London of Shakspeare, 
was the scene of the excellent novel of Nigel. The character of the 
King is as fine and as complete as anything that Scott had hitherto 
done. The scenes in Alsatia, the drinking-bout at Duke Hildebrod's, 
and the murder of the old usurer in Whitefriars, are inimitably good. 
It is true that the junction, between the two plots in this novel is not 
very artificial, and the catastrophe is both hurried and improbable ; but 
these defects are more than counterbalanced by the astonishing force 
and brilliancy of particular scenes. 

Peveril of the Peak is principally defective in the melodramatic and 
unsatisfactory parts played by Christian, the evil genius of the story, 
and the strange dumb dancing-girl who is made the instrument of his 
long-cherished revenge. *rhese mysterious figures harmonize but ill 
with the gay and profligate court of Charles IT. and with the somewhat 
prosaic details of the Popish conspiracy and the intrigues of Bucking- 
ham. The old cavalier Peveril is well contrasted with the gloomy and 



392 WALTAU SCOTT, [Chap. XX. 

brooding republican Major Bridgenorth ; but Scott, in this novel, has 
retained too much of his naturally chivalrous and medieeval tone, which 
is discordant when recurring amid the trivialities and Frenchified 
debauchery of a period which was in all essentials the very reverse of 
chivalric. The antithetical and epigrammatic mode in which Bucking- 
ham is described, though admirable in Dryden's satire, is quite contrary 
to the spirit of narrative fiction : and the dwarf, Geoffrey Hudson, is 
an unnatural excrescence on the story. 

The striking and picturesque scenes and manners of the time of 
Louis XI., and the opposition of the two strongly-contrasted person- 
ages of that perfidious tyrant and Charles the Bold of Burgundj^, 
render ^ueniin Durward a most fascinating story, in spite of the 
anachronisms and falsifications of historical truth ; and many of the 
scenes, as the revelry of the Boar of Ardennes in the Bishop's palace 
at L-iege, are executed with wonderful force and animation. The recep- 
tion of the Burgundian declaration of war by Louis in the midst of 
his court, and the supper at which he receives Crevecceur, while the 
archer is secretly posted with his loaded musket behind the screen, are 
examples of Scott's peculiar power of delineation. 

In St. Rona7i's Well the principal plot is of so gloomy, painful, and 
hopeless a character that the reader follows it with reluctance. The 
general cloud of sorrow and suffering is perhaps not darker in this 
novel than in the Bride of Lammermoor; but in the latter that sorrow 
is elevated by dignity and picturesque association, while in this almost 
all the persons are as odious as they are commonplace. The Earl of 
Etherington, the villain of the storj^, is less of a nobleman than of a 
swindler and a blackguard, and the hopeless persecution of Clara is 
never relieved by a single gleam of sunshine. Nevertheless the story 
contains, among the twaddling and prosaic crowd which is assembled 
at the Spa, one of those characteristic and perfectly-drawn Scottish 
figures in which this great author had no rival. Meg Dods is more 
than enough to compensate for the coarse brutality of some of the 
characters, and the frivolity of the others. Scott's peculiar powers 
seem to have deserted him when he attempted to delineate the affec- 
tations and absurdities of contemporary fashionable or would-be fash- 
ionable society. 

Redgaimtlet is the only novel in which Scott has adopted the epis- 
tolary form of narration. The letters in which the narrative is couched 
express very agreeably the strongly-opposed character of the two 
young friends ; and in the portions supposed to be written by Alan 
Fairford, the young Edinburgh advocate, .we find many charming 
recollections of the author's early life. The old Writer, his father, is, 
in all probability, a portrait of Scott's own father; and his adventures, 
when wandering in search of his friend, bring him in contact with 
things and persons delineated with extrao»dinary force; old Summer- 
trees, with his story of his escape, and above all Nanty Ewart, the 
smuggling captain, and his narrative of his own life, are masterpieces. 
I may also mention the admirable ghost story related by the old fiddler, 



A. D. 1771-1832.] TALES OF THE CRUSADERS. 393 

than which nothing was ever more impressive. Darsie Latimer, Hke 
most of Scott's heroes, is rather too much of the walking gentleman, 
little more than a mere tool in the hands of more powerful plotters. 

§ 11. The two novels the BetrotJied and the Talisman constitute the 
series entitled Tales of the Crusaders. In them the author returns to 
those feudal times of which he was so unrivalled a painter. The Be- 
trothed is far inferior to its companion : perhaps the scene of the 
action — the Marches of the Welsh Border — and the conflict between 
the Wild Celts and the Norman frontief garrison — was in itself less 
attractive both to reader and writer : true it is, that with the exception 
of some vigorous and stirring scenes, as for example the desperate 
sally and death of Raymond Berenger amid the swarms of the Celtic 
savages who are beleaguering his castle, this tale is read with less 
pleasure and returned to with less avidity than any except the latest 
productions of Scott's pen. The Talisfnan, on the contrary, is one 
of the most dazzling and attractive of them all : the heroic splendor 
of the scenery, personages, and adventures, the admirable contrast 
between Coeur de Lion and Saladin, and the magnificent contrast of 
the chivalry of Europe with the heroism and civilization of the East, — 
all this makes the Talisman a book equally delightful to the young and 
to the old. The introduction of familiar and even of comic details, 
with which Scott, like Shaks'peare, knew how to relieve and set oif his 
heroic pictures, renders this story peculiarly delightful. We seem to 
be brought near to the great and historic characters, and admitted as 
it were into their private life; we see that they are men like ourselves. 
The incidents in which the noble hound so picturesquely figures show 
how deep were Scott's sympathy with and knowledge of animal nature. 
There are few of his novels in which by some exquisite touch of descrip- 
tion or some pathetic stroke of fidelity he does not interest us in the 
fate and character of dogs as profoundly as in the human persons. 
Fangs in Ivanhoe, Bevis in Woodstock, the Peppers and Mustards of 
Charlie's Hope, even the pointer Juno who runs away with the Anti- 
quary's buttered toast, — every one of these animals has its distinctive 
physiognomy; and we cannot wonder that Scott himself was as fond 
of real dogs as he makes us interested in his imaginary canine per- 
sonages. 

The action of Woodstock is placed just after the fatal defeat at Worces- 
ter; and Cromwell and Charles II. both appear in the action. The 
interest, however, is really concentrated upon the noble figure of the 
chivalrous old royalist gentleman Sir Henry Lee. The lofty qualities 
of this cavalier patriarch are so well and so naturally tempered with 
weaknesses and foibles, that the character is truly living and real. Many 
of the subordinate scenes and characters, too, as Jocelyn the ranger, 
Wildrake, the plotting Dr. Rochecliffe, even Phoebe and the old woman, 
are ever fresh and interesting. The euthanasia of the old knight, amid 
the full triumph of the Restoration, is a scene powerfully and patheti- 
cally conceived, and may bear a comparison with that almost sublime 
passage, the description of the death of Mrs. Witherington in the Sur- 



394 WALTER SCOTT. [Chap. XX. 

geon's Daughter., Cromwell and Charles have not been so successfully 
treated : the one has been unduly lowered, the other as unduly elevated, 
by the strong political partialities of the author. 

§ 12. The Chro7iicles of the Canongate contain the short tales of the 
Htor/iland Widow, the Two Drovers, and the novels oi the Surgeon's 
Daughter and the Fair Maid of Perth. By a fiction like that of Peter 
Pattieson, the imaginary author of the Tales of My Landlord, these 
were supposed to be the production of Chrystal Croftangry, a retired 
Scottish gentleman, whose life had been full of agitation. The intro- 
ductory portion, describing the life of this person, and the causes which 
led him to try his skill in authorship, are very agreeably written, and 
contain one most pathetic incident; but we see throughout in this part, 
as well as in the tales, a somewhat melancholy and desponding tone of 
thought, which may partly be ascribed to the approach of old age, but 
still more probably to the influence of Scott's personal calamities. The 
two first stories are comparatively insignificant; but the Surgeon's 
Daughter is in its general incidents and characters so sombre and 
gloomy that the impression it leaves is far from agreeable. The hero, 
Richard Middlemas, is a villain of such mean and ignoble calibre, and 
the innocent are throughout pursued by such hopeless and unmitigated 
misfortune, that the effect of the whole is unpleasing. The latter portion 
of the incidents takes place in India, in which country Scott does not 
appear at home : the descriptions read as if they had been got up out of 
books. 

The Fair Maid of Perth is a romantic and half-historical picture 
from an interesting period of the early Scottish annals. The great 
defect of the story is the hazardous and unsuccessful novelty of repre- 
senting the hero Conachar — or rather one of the heroes, for perhaps 
the Smith is the real protagonist — as a coward; an expedient that has 
more of novelty than felicity to recommend it. Novelists have indeed 
succeeded tolerably well with a plain, nay, even with an ugly heroine; 
but a cowardly hero — even though his polti-oonery be represented as a 
sort of congenital disease or weakness — is what never did and never 
can be made interesting. And this is the more unfortunate when we 
think of the period of the story, the nation, the age, and the position 
of Conachar; the young chief of a Highland clan, in the wildest and 
most warlike age of Scottish history. The Smith is, however, one of 
Scott's happy characters, and the scene of the combat between the two 
clans is painted with something of the same fire that glows in Marmion 
and in the Lady of the Lake. Henbane Dwining, the potticarrier, 
though powerfully conceived, is a sort of anachronism in the story, and 
the assassination of the Duke of Rothsay, as a scene of horror, is not 
to be compared with the murder of old Trapbois in Nigel. 

Anne of Geiersieijt afforded the opportunity of contrasting the wild 
nature and simple manners of the Swiss patriots with the feudal 
splendor of the Court of Burgundy. The reception of the Shepherd 
ambassador by Charles in his cour plenitre is a piece of magnificent 
painting; the execution of de Hagenbach and the rout of Nancy are 



A. D. 1771-1832.] COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 395 

also very powerfully given : but we confess that the scene of the Vehm- 
tribunal, though carefully worked up, has something of an artificial and 
theatrical eflfect. 

In the two last novels written by this mighty creator, Cotc?tt Robert 
of Paris and Castle Dangerous, we see, with pity and respect, the last 
feeble runnings of this bright ' and abundant fountain, soon to be 
choked up forever. The scenes and descriptions have the air of being 
painfully worked up from books, the characters are conventional and 
without individuality, the dialogues are long and pointless, and nothing 
remains of the great master's manner but that free, honest, pure, and 
noble spirit of thought and feeling which never deserted him. 

In the delineation of character, as well as in the painting of external 
nature, Scott proceeds objectively : his mind was a mirror that faithfully 
reflected the external surfaces of things. He does not show the pro- 
found analysis which penetrates into the internal mechanism of the 
passions and anatomizes the nature of man, nor does he communicate, 
like Richardson and Byron, his own personal coloring to the creations 
of his fancy; but he sets before you so brightly, so transparently, so 
vividly, all that is necessary to give a distinct idea, that his images 
remain indelibly in the memory. 



896 • LORD BYRON. [Chap. XXL 



CHAPTER XXI. 

BYRON, MOORE, SHELLEY, KEATS, CAMPBELL, LEIGH 
. HUNT, AND WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR. 

§ 1. Lord Byron. His life and writings. § 2. Childe Harold. § 3. Romantic 
Tales : The Giaour, Siege of Corinth, Corsair, &c. § 4. Beppo and the Vision 
of Judgment. The Island and other poems. § 5. Dramatic Works : Manfred 
and Cain. Marino Faliero. The Two Foscari. Sardanapalus. Werner. 
§ 6. Don Juan. § 7. Thomas Moore. His life and writings. § 8. Transla- 
tion of Anacreon. Thomas Little's Works. Odes and Epistles. Irish Mel- 
odies. National Airs. Sacred Songs. § 9. Political lampoons : the Fudge 
Family in Paris. § 10. Lalki Rookh and the £oves of the Angels. § 11. Prose 
works. The Epicurean, and Biographies of Sheridan, Byron, and Lord Ed' 
icard Fitzgerald. § 12. Percy Bysshe Shelley. His life. § 13. Queen 
Mab. Alastor. Revolt of Islam. Heilas. The Witch of Atlas. Prome- 
theus Unbotmd. The Cenci. § 14. Rosalind and Helen. The Sensitive Plant. 
§ 15. John Keats. His life and writings. § 16. Thomas Campbell. His 
life and writings. ^ 17. Leigh Hunt. His life and writings. § 18. Walter 
Savage Landor. His life and writings. 

§ 1. The immense influence exerted by Byron on the taste and sen- 
timent of Europe has not yet passed away, and though far from being 
so supreme and despotic as it once was, is not likely to be ever effaced. 
He called himself, in one of his poems, " the grand Napoleon of the 
realms of rhyme ; " and there is some similarity between the suddenness 
and splendor of his literary career and the meteoric rise and domination 
of the First Bonaparte. They were both, in their respective depart- 
ments, the offspring of revolution ; and both, after reigning with ab- 
solute power for some time, were deposed from their supremacy, though 
their reign will leave profound traces in the history of the nineteenth 
century. George Gordon, Lord Byron (1788-1824), was born in 
London in 1788, and was the son of an unprincipled profligate and of 
a Scottish heiress of ancient and illustrious extraction, but of a tem- 
per so passionate and uncontrolled that it reached, in its capricious 
alternations of fondness and violence, very nearly to the limit of in- 
sanity. Her dowry was speedily dissipated by her worthless husband ; 
and the lady, with her boy, was obliged to retire to Aberdeen, where 
they lived for several years in very straitened circumstances. The future 
poet inherited from his mother a susceptibility almost morbid, which 
such a kind of early training must have still further aggravated. His 
personal beauty was remarkable ; but that fatality thaf seemed to poison 
in him all the good gifts of fortune and nature, in giving him " a head 
that sculptors loved to model," afflicted him with a slight malformation 
in one of his feet, which was ever a source of pain and mortification to 
his vanity. He was about eleven years old when the death of his 



A. D. 1788-1824.] HIS LIFE AND WRITINGS. 397 

grand-uncle, a strange, eccentric, and misanthropic recluse, made him 
heir-presumptive to the baronial title of one of the most ancient aris- 
tocratic houses in Englhnd — a house which had figured in our history 
from the time of the Crusades, and had been for several generations 
notorious for the vices and even crimes of its representatives. With 
the title he inherited large though embarrassed estates, and the noble, 
picturesque residence of Newstead Abbey, near Nottingham. This sud- 
den change in the boy's prospects of course relieved both mother and 
child from the pressure of almost sordid poverty ; and he was sent first 
to Harrow School, and afterwards to Trinity College, Cambridge. At 
school he distinguished himself by his moody and passionate character, 
and by the romantic intensity of his youthful friendships. Precocious 
in everything, he had already felt with morbid violence the sentiment 
of love. At college he became notorious for the irregularities of 
his conduct, for his contempt for academical discipline, and for his 
friendship with several young men of splendid talents, but sceptical 
principles. He was a greedy though desultory reader, and his imagi- 
intion appears to have been especially attracted to Oriental history and 
travels. 

It was while at Cahibridge that Byron made his first literary attempt, 
/n the publication of a small volume of fugitive poems entitled Hours 
of Idleness, by Lord Byron, a Mi?ior. This collection, though in no 
respect inferior to the youthful essays of ninety-nine out of every hun- 
dred young men, was seized upon and most severely critcised in the 
Edinburgh Review, a literary journal then just commencing that career 
Df brilliant innovation which rendered it so formidable. The judg- 
ment of the reviewer as to the total want of value in the poems was 
perfectly just; but the unfairness consisted in so powerful a journal 
invidiously going out of its way to attack such a very humble production 
as a volume of feeble and pretentious commonplaces written by a young 
lord. The criticism, however, threw Byron into a frenzy of rage. He 
instantly set about taking his revenge in the satire, English Bards and 
Scotch Reviewers, in which he involved in one common storm of invec- 
tive not only his enemies of the Edinburgh Review, but almost all the 
literary men of the day — Walter Scott, Moore, and a thousand others, 
from whom he had received no provocation whatever. He soon be- 
came ashamed of his unreasoning and indiscriminate violence; tried, 
but vainly, to suppress the poem ; and became indeed, in after life, the 
friepd and sincere admirer of many of those whom he had lampooned 
in this burst of youthful retaliation. Though written in the classical, 
declamatory, and regular style of Gifford, himself an imitator of Pope, 
the English Bards shows a fervor and power of expression which en- 
ables us to see in it, dimly, the earnest of Byron's intense and fiery 
genius, which was afterwards to exhibit itself under such different 
literary forms. 

Byron now went abroad to "travel, and visiting countries then little 
frequented, and almost unknown to English society, he filled his mind 
with the picturesque life and scenery of Greece, Turkey, and the East; 
34 



898 LORD BYRON. [Chap. XXI. 

and accumulated those stores of character and description which he 
poured forth with such rojal splendor in his poems. The two first 
cantos of Childe Harold absolutely took the public by storm, and car- 
ried the enthusiasm for Byron's poetry to a pitch of frenzy of which we 
have now no idea, and at once placed him at the summit of social and lit- 
erary popularity. These were followed in rapid and splendid succession 
by those romantic tales, written somewhat upon the plan which Scott's 
poems had rendered so fashionable, the Giaour^ Bride of Abydos, Cor- 
sair, Lara. As Scott had drawn his material from feudal and Scottish 
life, Byron broke up new ground in describing the manners, scenery, 
and wild passions of the East and of Greece — a region as picturesque 
as that of his rival, as well known to him by experience, and as new 
and fresh to the public he addressed. Returning to England in the 
full blaze of his dawning fame, the poet became the lion of the day. 
His life was passed in fashionable frivolities, and he drained, with 
feverish avidity, the intoxicating cup of fame. He at this period mar- 
ried Miss Milbanke, a lady of considerable expectations ; but the union 
was an unhappy one, and domestic disagreements were embittered by 
improvidence and debt. In about a year Lady Byron, by the advice 
of her family, and of many distinguished lawyers who were consulted 
on the subject, suddenly quitted her husband; and the reasons for tak- 
ing this step will ever remain a mystery. The scandal of the separation 
deeply wounded the poet, who to the end of his life asserted that he never 
knew the real motive of the divorce ; and the society of the fashionable 
world, passing with its usual caprice from exaggerated idolatry to as^ 
exaggerated hostility, pursued its former darling with a furious howl 
of reprobation. He again left England ; and from thenceforth his life 
was passed uninterruptedly on the Continent, in Switzerland, in Greece, 
and at Rome, Pisa, Ravenna, and Venice, where he solaced his embit- 
tered spirit with misanthropical attacks upon all that his countrymen 
held sacred, and gradually plunged deeper and deeper into a slough of 
sensuality and vice. While at Geneva he produced the third canto of 
Childe Harold, the Prisoner of Ckillon, Manfred, and the Lament 
of Tasso. Between 1818 and 182 1 he was principally residing at Ven- 
ice and Ravenna; and at this period he wrote Mazeppa, the first five 
cantos of Don Juan, and most of his tragedies, as Marino Faliero, 
Sardanapalus, the Twd Foscari, Werner, Cain, and the Deformed 
Transformed, in many of which the influence of Shelley's literary 
manner and philosophical tenets is more or less traceable; and here 
too he terminated Don fuan, at least as far as it ever was completed. 
The deep profligacy of his priyate life in Italy, which had undermined 
his constitution as well as degraded his genius, was in some measure 
redeemed by an illegitimate, though not ignoble connection with the 
young Countess Guiccioli, a beautiful and accomplished girl, united by 
a marriage of family interest with a man old enough to be her grand- 
father. In 1823, Byron, who had deeply sympathized with revolution- 
ary efforts in Italy, and was wearied with the companionship of Leigh 
Hunt and others who surrounded him, determined to devote his fortune 



A. D. 1788-1824.] CEILDE HAROLD. 899 

and his influence in aid of the Greeks, then struggling for their indepen- 
dence. He arrived at Missolonghi at the beginning of 1824; and after 
giving striking indications of his practical talents, as well as of his 
ardor and self-sacrifice, he succumbed under the m^rsh fever of that 
unhealthy region, rendered still more deleterious by the excesses which 
had ruined his constitution. He died, amid the lamentations of the 
Greek patriots, whose benefactor he had been, and amid the universal 
sorrow of civilized Europe, on the 19th of April, 1824, at the early age 
of thirty-six. 

§ 2. The plan of Childc Harold^ though well adapted for the pur- 
pose of introducing descriptive and meditative passages, and carrying 
the reader through widely-distant scenes, is not very probable or in- 
genious. It is a series of gloomy but intensely poetical monologues, 
put into the mouth of a jaded and misanthropic voluptuary, who takes 
refuge from his disenchantment of pleasure in the contemplation of 
the lovel^'^ or historical scenes of travel. The firs't canto principally 
describes Portugal and Spain, and contains many powerful pictures of 
the great battles which rendered memorable the struggle between those 
oppressed nationalities, aided by England, against the colossal power 
of Napoleon. Thus we have the tremendous combat of Talavera, and 
scenes of Spanish life and manners, as the bull-fight. The second 
canto carries the wanderer to Greece, Albania, and the ^gean Archi- 
pelago; and here Byron gave the first earnest of his unequalled genius 
in reproducing the scenery and the wild life of those picturesque 
regions. In the third canto, which is perhaps the finest and intensest 
in feeling of them all, Switzerland, Belgium, and the Rhine, give splen- 
did opportunities not only for pictures of nature of consummate beauty, 
but of incidental reflections on Napoleon, Voltaire, Rousseau, and the 
great men whose glory has thrown a new magic over those enchanting 
scenes. This canto also contains the magnificent description of the 
Battle of Waterloo, and bitter and melancholy but sublime musings on 
the vanity of military fame. In the fourth canto the reader is borne 
successively over the fairest and most touching scenes of Italy, — Ven- 
ice, Ferrara, Florence, Rome, and Ravenna, — *and not only the immor- 
tal dead, but the great monumenJ;s of painting and sculpture, are 
described with an intensity of feeling that had never before been seen 
in poetry. The poem is written in the nine-lined or Spenserian stanza; 
and in the beginning of the first canto the poet makes an effort to give 
something of the quaint and archaic character of the Fairy Qiieen, by 
adopting old words, as Spenser had done before him ; but he very 
speedily, and with good taste, throws off" the useless and embarrassing 
restraint. In intensity of feeling, in richness and harmony of expres- 
sion, and in an imposing tone of gloomy, sceptical, and misanthropic 
reflection, Childe Harold ^to-nds alone in our literature; and the free- 
dom and vigor of the flow, both as regards the images and the lan- 
guage, make it one of the most impressive works in literature. 

§ 3. The romantic tales of Byron are so numerous thf;t it will be 
impossible to examine them in detail. They are all marked by similar 



400 LORD BYEOK. [Chap. XXI. 

peculiarities of thought and treatment, though they may differ in the 
kind and degree of their respective excellences. The Giaour, the 
Sie^e of Coritzth, Mazeppa, Parisina, the Prisoner of Chillon, and 
the Bride of Abydos are written in that somewhat irregular and flow- 
ing versification which Scott brought into fashion, while the Corsair, 
Lara, and the Island are in the regular English-rhymed heroic meas- 
ure. It is difficult to decide which of these metrical forms Byron uses 
with greater vigor and effect. In the Giaour, Siege of Corinth, the 
Bride, and Corsair, the scene is laid in Greece or the Greek Archipel- 
ago; and picturesque contrast between the Christian and Mussulman, 
as well as the dramatic scenery, manners, and costume of those regions, 
is powerfully set before the reader. These poems have in general a 
fragmentary character : they are made vip of imposing and intensely 
interesting moments of passion and action. Neither in these nor in 
any of his works does Byron show the least power of delineating vari- 
ety of character. There are but two personages in all his poems — 
a man in whom unbridled passions have desolated the heart, and left it 
hard and impenetrable as the congealed lava-stream, or only capable 
of launching its concealed fires at moments of strong emotion ; a man 
contemptuous of his kind, whom he rules by the very force of that con- 
tempt, sceptical and despairing, yet feeling the softer emotions with an 
intensity proportioned to Mie rarity with which he yields to them. The 
woman is the woman of the East — sensual, devoted, and loving, but 
loving with the unreasoning attachment of the lower animals. These 
elements of character, meagre and unnatural as they are, are, how- 
ever, set before us with such consummate force and intensity, and are 
framed, so to say, in such brilliant and picturesque surroundings, tliat 
the reader, and particularly the young and inexperienced reader, inva- 
riably loses sight of their contradictions ; and there is a time when all 
of us have thought the sombre, scowling, mysterious heroes of Byron 
the very ideal of all that is noble and admirable. Nothing can exceed 
the skill with which the most picturesque light and shade is thrown 
upon the features of these Rembrandt-like or rather Tintoretto-like 
sketches. In all these poems we meet with inimitable descriptions, 
tender, animated, or profound, which harmonize with the tone of the 
dramatis personce : thus the famous comparison of enslaved Greece to 
a corpse in the Giaour, the night-scene and the battle-scene in the 
Corsair and Lara, the eve of the storming of the city in the Siege of Cor- 
inth, and the fiery energy of the attack in the same poem, the exquisite 
opening lines in Parisiiia, besides a multitude of others, might be ad- 
duced to prove Byron's extraordinary genius in communicating to his 
pictures the individuality and the coloring of his own feelings and char- 
acter — proceeding, in this respect, in a manner precisely opposed to 
Walter Scott, whose scenes are as it were reflected in a mirror, and take 
no coloring from the poet's own individuality. If Scott's picturesque fac- 
ulty be like that of the pure surface of a lake, or the colorless plane of 
1 mirror, that of Byron resembles those tinted glasses which convey to 
a landscape viewed through them the yellow gleam of a Cuyp, ^r the 



A. D. 178S-1824.] BEPPO, VISION OF JUDGMENT. 401 

sombre gloom of a Zurbaran. Lara is undoubtedly the sequel of the 
Corsair ; the returned Spanish noble of mysterious adventures is no 
other than Conrad of the preceding poem, and the disguised page is 
Gulnare. The Stcge of Corinth is remarkable for the extraordinary vari- 
ety and force of its descriptions — a variety greater than will generally be 
found in Byron's tales. Parisina derives its chief interest from the 
deep pathos with which the author has invested a painful and even 
repulsive story ; and in the Prisoner of Chillon the hopeless tone of 
sorrow and uncomplaining suffering which runs through the whole 
gives it a strong hold upon the reader's feelings. Mazefpa^ though 
founded upon the adventures of an historical person, is singularly 
and almost ludicrously at variance with the real character of the 
hero. The powerfully-written episode of the gallop of the wMd steed, 
with the victim lashed on his back, makes the reader forget all incon- 
gruities. 

§ 4, In Be^po and the Vision of yudg/nejit 'Byron has ventured upon 
the gay, airj^, and satirical. The former of these poems is a little epi- 
sode of Venetian intrigue narrated in singularly easy verse, and exhib- 
iting a minute knowledge of the details of Italian manners and society. 
It is not perhaps over moral, but it is exquisitely playful and sparkling. 
The Vision is a most severe attack upon Southey, in which Byron vig- 
orously repels the accusations brought by his antagonist against the 
alleged immorality of his poems, and carries the war into the enemy's 
country, showing up with unmerciful bitterness the contrast between 
Southey's former extreme liberalism and his then rabid devotion to 
Court principles, and parodying the very poor and pretentious verses 
which Southey, as Poet Laureate, composed as a sort of apotheosis of 
George III. Though somewhat ferocious and truculent, this satire is 
brilliant, and conta^'ns many picturesque and even beautiful passages ; 
and was certainly, under the circumstances of provocation, a fair and 
allowable attack. The Island, in four cantos, is a striking incident 
extracted from the narrative of the famous mutiny of the Bounty, when 
Captain Bligh and his officers were cast off by his rebellious crew in 
an open boat, and the mutineers, under the command of Christian, 
established themselves in half-savage life on Pitcairn's Island, where 
their descendants were recently living. Among the less commonly 
read of Byron's longer poems I may mention the Age of Bronze., 
a vehement satirical declamation ; the Curse of Minerva, directed 
against the spoliation of the frieze of the Parthenon by Lord Elgin, in 
which the description of sunset, forming the opening of the poem, is 
inexpressibly beautiful; the Lament of Tasso and the Prophecy of 
Dante, the latter written in the difficult terza rima, the first attempt, I 
believe, of any English poet to employ that measure. The Dreatn is 
in some respects the most complete and touching of Byron's minor 
works. It is the narrative, in the form of a vision, of his early love- 
sorrow for Mary Chaworth. There is hardly, in the whole range of 
literature, so tender, so lofty, and so condensed a life-drama as that 
narrated in these verses. Picture afcer picture is softly shadowed forth, 
34* 



402 LORD BYRON. [Chap. XXI. 

all pervaded by the same mournful glow, and " the doom of the two 
creatures " is set before us in all its hopeless misery. 

§ 5. The dramatic works of Byron are in many respects the precise 
opposite of what might d. priori have been expected from the peculiar 
character of his genius. In form they are cold, severe, lofty, partaking 
far more of the manner of Alfieri than of that of Shakspeare. Artful 
involution of intrigue they have not, but though singularly destitute of 
powerful passioti they are full of intense sentiment. The finest of them 
is Manfred, which, however, is not so much a drama as a dramatic 
poem, in some degree resembling Faust, by which indeed it was sug- 
gested. It consists not of action represented in dialogue, but of a 
series of sublime soliloquies, in which the mysterious hero describes 
nature,*~and pours forth his despair and his self-pity. The scene with 
which it opens has a strong resemblance to the first monologue of 
Goethe's hero ; and the invocation of the Witch of the Alps, the medi- 
tation of Manfred on the Jun^frau, the description of the ruins of the 
Coliseum, are singularly grand and touching as detached passages, but 
have no dramatic cohesion. In this work, as well as in Cain, we see 
the full expression of Byron's sceptical spirit, and the tone of half- 
melancholy, half-mocking misanthropy which colors so much of his 
writings, and which was in him partly sincere and partly put on for 
effect; for Byron was far from that profound conviction in his anti- 
religious doctrines which glows so fervently through every page written 
by his friend Shelley, who unquestionably exerted a very powerful 
influence upon Byron at one part of his career. The more exclusively 
historical pieces — Marino Paliero, the Tivo Foscari — are derived 
from Venetian annals; but neither in the one nor in the other has 
Byron clothed the events with that living and intense reality which the 
subjects would have received, I will not say from Shakspeare, but even 
from Rowe or Otway. There is in these dramas a complete failure in 
variety of character; and the interest is concentrated on the obstinate 
harping of the principal personages upon one topic — their own wrongs 
and humiliations. This is indeed at times impressive, and, aided by 
Byron's magnificent powers of expression, gives us noble occasional 
tirades ; but it is essentially undramatic, for it is inconsistent with 
that play and mutual action and reaction of one character or passion 
upon another, in which dramatic interest essentially consists. In Sar- 
danapalus the remoteness of the epoch chosen, and our total ignorance 
of the interior life of those times, remove the piece into the region of 
fiction. But the character of Myrrha, though beautiful, is an anachro- 
nism and an impossibility; and the antithetic contrast between the 
effeminacy and sudden heroism in Sardanapalus belongs rather to the 
satire or to the moral disquisition than to tragedy. Werner, a piece 
of domestic interest, is bodily borrowed, as far as regards its incidents, 
and even much of its dialogue, from the Hungarian's Story in Miss 
Lee's " Canterbury Tales." It still retains possession of the stage, 
because, like Sardanapalus, it gives a good opportunity for the display 
of stage decoration and declamation ; but Byron's share in its com- 



A. D. 1788-1824.] DON JUAN. 403 

position extends little farther than the cutting up of Miss L »e's prose 
into tolerably regular but often very indifferent lines. 

§ 6. Don yuan is the longest, the most singular, and in some 
respects the most characteristic, of Byron's poems. It is, indeed, one of 
the most remarkable and significant productions of the age of revolu- 
tion and scepticism vv^hich almost immediately preceded its appearance. 
It is written in octaves, a kind of versification borrow^ed from the 
Italians, and particularly from the half-serious, half-comic writers who 
followed in the wake of Ariosto. The outline of the story is the old 
Spanish legendof Don Juan de Tenorio, upon which have been founded 
so many dramatic works, among the rest the Festin de Pierre of Moliere 
and the immortal opera of Mozart. The fundamental idea of the 
atheist and voluptuary enabled Byron to carry his hero through various 
adventures, serious and comic, to exhibit his unrivalled power of de- 
scription, and left him unfettered b}^ any necessities of time and place. 
Byron's Don Juan is a young Spanish hidalgo, whose education is 
described with strong satiric power intermingled with frequent and 
bitter personal allusions to those against whom the author has a grudge, 
and being detected in a scandalous intrigue with a married woman, he 
is obliged to leave Spain. He embarks on board a ship which is 
wrecked in the Greek Archipelago, all hands perishing after incredible 
sufferings in an open boat, and is thrown, exhausted and almost dying, 
on one of the smaller Cyclades. Here he is cherished and sheltered by 
Ilaidee, a lovely Greek girl, the half-savage daughter of Lambro, the 
master of the isle, now absent on a piratical expedition. Haidee and 
Juan are married, and in the midst of the wedding festivities Lambro 
returns, Juan is overpowered, wounded, and put on board the pirate's 
vessel to be carried to Constantinople, and Haidee soon afterwards dies 
of grief and despair. Juan is exposed for sale in the slave-market at 
Stamboul, attracts the notice of the favorite Sultana, who buys him, and 
introduces him in the disguise of an odalisque into the seraglio ; but 
Juan refuses the love of Gulbeyaz, and afterwards escapes from Con- 
stantinople in company with Smith, an Englishman whom he has 
encountered in slavery. The hero is then made to arrive at the siege 
of Izmail by the Russian army under Souvaroff ; the horrible details of 
the storming and capture of the city are borrowed from ofiicial and 
historical sources, and reproduced with the same fidelity as the pictures 
of the shipwreck from Admiral Byron's narrative of his own calamities. 
Juan distinguishes himself in the assault, and is selected to carry the 
bulletin of victory to the Empress Catherine. The Court of St. Peters- 
burg is then described, and Juan becomes the favorite and lover of the 
Northern Semiramis ; but his health giving way, he is sent on a diplo- 
matic mission to England. Here the author gives us a very minute and 
sarcastic account of English aristocratic society, and in the midst of 
what promises to turn out an amusing, though not over moral adventure, 
the narrative abruptly breaks off. Don yuan, in the imperfect state in 
which it was left, consists of sixteen cantos, and there is no reason why 
it should not have been indefinitely extended. It was the author's 



404 THOMAS MOORE. [Chap. XXI. 

intention to bring his hero's adventures to a regular termination, but 
Ko desultory a series of incidents have no real coherency. The merit 
of this extraordinary poem is the richness of ideas, thoughts, and 
images, which form an absolute plethora of w^itty allusion and sarcastic 
reflection ; and above all the constant passage from the loftiest and 
tenderest tone of poetry to the most familiar and mocking style. These 
transitions are incessant, and the artifice of such sudden change of 
sentiment which at first dazzles and enchants the reader, ultimately 
wearies him. The tone of morality is throughout very low and selfish, 
even materialistic : everything in turn is made the subject of a sneer, 
and the brilliant but desolating lightning of Byron's sarcasm blasts 
alike the weeds of hypocrisy and cant, and the flowers of faith and the 
holiest aftections. This Mephistophiles-like tone is rendered more 
effective by perpetual contrast with the warmest outbursts of feeling 
and the most admirable descriptions of nature : the air of superiority 
v/hich is implied in the wery nature of sarcasm renders Dojt Jiiaii 
peculiarly dangerous, as it is peculiarly fascinating, to young readers. 
In spite of much superficial flippancy, this poem contains an immense 
mass of profound and melancholy satire, and in a very large number 
of serious passages Byron has shown a power, picturesqueness, and 
pathos which in other works may indeed be paralleled, but caiuiot be 
surpassed. 

§ 7. Thomas Moore (1779-1852), the personal friend and biographer 
of Byron, is the most popular of his literary contemporaries. He was 
born in Dublin, of humble parentage, but through the wise affection 
of his parents, received as good an education as his extraordinary dis- 
play of boyish ability seemed to call for. Being a Catholic, many of 
the avenues to public distinction were then, by the invidious laws that 
oppressed his country and religion, closed to him ; but after distin- 
guishing himself at the University of Dublin he passed over to London, 
nominally with the intention of studying law in the Temple, but in 
reality' to commence that career as a poet, which was so long and so 
brilliant. He first appeared before the public as the translator of the 
Odes of Anacreoti, a task for which his elegant and varied, though per- 
haps not very profound, scholarship, rendered him sufficiently fit, while 
the highly colored and voluptuous style of his version gave an attractive 
if not very faithful idea of the manner of the Teian bard. This work 
was published by subscription, and dedicated to the Prince Regent, 
and immediately introduced Moore into that gay and fashionable society 
of which he remained all his life a somewhat too assiduous frequenter. 
He had indeed, both in his personal and poetical character, everything 
calculated to make him the darling of society; great conversational 
talents, an agreeable voice, and a degree of musical skill which enabled 
him to give enchanting effect to the tender, voluptuous, or patriotic 
songs which he poured forth with such facile abundance. His dignity 
of character, perhaps, suffered from his passion for the frivolous tri- 
umphs of fashionable circles; but Moore was during his whole life the 
spoiled child of popularitj-. The only serious check he suffered in his 



A. D. 1779-1852.] HIS LIFE AND WRITINGS. 405 

gay career was when he obtained a small government post in the island 
of Bermuda (1S04), which, indeed, enabled him to visit America and 
the Antilles, and drew from him some of the most elegant and spar- 
kling of his early poems : but he neglected the duties for which he was 
totally unfit, and, by the dishonesty of a subordinate, exposed himself 
to serious responsibility, in conseqwence of the embezzlement of a con- 
siderable sum of public money. This claim of the crown, for which he 
was legally answerable, though no suspicion of irregularity was person- 
ally attached to Moore, he afterwards discharged by his literary labor; 
and nearly the whole of his long life was devoted to the production of 
a rapid and wonderfully varied succession of compositions, both in 
prose and verse, some of which obtained an immense and all a respec- 
table success. They maj', generally, be divided into lyric productions, 
serious and comic, the latter principally consisting of political squibs 
of an entirely original and most enchanting character, nothing like 
which had till then appeared, narrative poems, the chief of which are 
the Lalla Rookh and the Loves of the Angels^ a novel, originally in- 
tended to be a poem in the epistolary form, entitled the E^icurea7i, and 
three considerable biographical works, the memoirs of Sheridan, of 
Byron, and of the unfortunate Irish patriot Lord Edward Fitzgerald. 
This rapid enumeration gives, of course, only the outline of Moore's 
very long, very successful, and very well-filled career. It will be requi- 
site presently to enter more into detail when we come to examine his 
productions. As an Irishman and Catholic Moore was naturally a 
Whig, "and something more," and the oppression of his country, and 
the persecution of his faith, suggested not only the most touching and 
spirit-stirring passages of his patriotic lyrics, but they supplied the 
biting and yet pleasant sarcasm which seasons his p>olitical pasquinades. 
He spent the latter part of his life in a cottage near Bowood, the resi- 
dence of the Marquess of Lansdowne, who had cherished his friend- 
ship. 

§ 8. The poetical, which is also the larger, portion of Moore's writ- 
'ings, consists chiefly of lyrics, whether serious or comic, the most cele- 
brated collection among them being the Irish Melodies, of which I 
shall speak in its proper place, after passing in rapid review his earlier 
efforts. The version of Anacreon, though tolerably faithful in the 
general rendering of the original, is far too brilliant and ornamefital 
in its language to give a correct idea of the manner of the Greek poet. 
Moore is indeed not more voluptuous than his original, but Anacreon 
clothes his voluptuousness of sentiment in a garb of the most exquisite 
simplicity of expression. His muse is like the lovely nakedness of an 
undraped antique marble. Moore has adorned the statue with the daz- 
zling but not always sterling decorations of antithesis and modern 
coloring. In his juvenile poems, as well as in the collection published 
under the pseudonyme of Thomas Little, in the productions suggested 
by his visit to America and the West Indies, and in the Odes and Epis- 
tles, we see that ingenious and ever-watchful invention which forms a 
prominent characteristic of Moore's genius ; and also the strongly 



406 THOMAS 310 ORE. [Chap. XXI, 

erotic and voluptuous tendency of sentiment, which is sometime?* 
carried beyond the bounds of good taste and moraHty. But the vokip- 
tuousness of this poet is not of a very dangerous or corrupting nature : 
it is the result rather of a lively fancy than of a profoundly passionate 
temperament, and expresses itself in a perpetual sparkle of ingenious 
allusion and combination of ideas. *If wit be properly defined as the 
power of perceiving relations between objects which to ordinary minds 
appear incapable of combination, then Moore possesses wit in a very 
high degree — a degree as high perhaps as Cowley himself: and like 
Cowley he exhibits this faculty quite as strikingly in his serious as in 
his comic writings. He is in particular remarkable for the felicity with 
which he illustrates and adorns his fancies by allusions drawn from 
apparently remote and unexpected sources : and though he sometimes- 
abuses this kind of ingenuity, which is of course out of place in pas- 
sages where the poet's aim is to excite deep emotion, yet it is often pro- 
ductive of pleasure and surprise to the reader. 

The Irish Melodies, a collection of about one hundred and twenty- 
five songs, were composed in order to furnish appropriate words to a 
great number of beautiful national airs, some of great antiquity, which 
had been degraded by becoming gradually associated with lines often 
vulgar and sometimes even indecent. The music was arranged by Sir 
John Stevenson, an Irish composer of some merit, and Moore furnished 
the poetry, which occupied in England and Ireland a somewhat similar 
position as regards popularity with that of Beranger in France. The 
themes as well as the airs of these songs are almost entirely national ; 
and when we think of the very narrow repertory of subjects to which 
the song- writer is necessarily limited, we cannot but admire the extraor- 
dinary fertility of invention he has displayed. Patriotism, love, and 
conviviality form the subject-matter of these charming lyrics : the past 
glories and sufferings and the future greatness of Ireland are indeed 
frequently allegorized in many of those lyrics which at first sight 
appear devoted to love : as the praises of wine and women in the songs 
of Hafiz are interpreted by orthodox Mahometan critics to signifj^, 
esoterically, the raptures of religious mysticism. The versification of 
these songs has never been surpassed for melody and neatness : indeed, 
from a simple declamation of many of them, it is easy to guess at the 
air to which they were intended to be sung. The language is always 
clear, appropriate, and concise, and sometimes reaches a high degree^ 
of majesty, vigor, or tenderness. The pathetic effect is seldom missed, 
except when the author is led away by his ingenuity to introduce one 
of those conceits or witty turns, which, by their very epigrammatic 
cleverness, are destructive of lofty or tender emotion. Though Moore 
is destitute of the intense feeling of Burns, or of that exquisite sensi- 
bility to popular feeling which makes Beranger the darling of the mid- 
dle and lower classes of France, yet he appeals, as they do, to the 
universal sentiments of his countrymen, and his popularity is propor- 
tionally great. The Irish Melodies appeared in a succession o{ fasciculi^ 
and instantly attained z.n immense popularity: there is not a piano in 



A. D. 1779-1852.] IRISH MELODIES. 407 

England or Ireland upon which thej are not to be seen. On a some- 
what similar plan Moore composed a considerable number — about 
seventy — of songs intended to be accompanied by tunes peculiar to 
various countries. These he called National Airs, and they exhibit 
the same exquisite sensibility to the musical character of the different 
airs, and the same neatness of expression, as the Irish Melodies ; but 
they are naturally inferior to them in intensity of patriotic feeling. In 
the latter as in the former collection, Moore sometimes fails in his 
effect by indulging in playful ingenuities of fancy and epigrammatic 
turns of thought. A small collection of Sacred Songs affords frequent 
examples both of the merits and defects of Moore's lyrical genius, 
though the latter are perhaps more prominent as destructive occa- 
sionally of the lofty religious tone which the subject required him to 
maintain. None of these collections, however, can be examined with- 
out the reader's meeting with many examples of consummate felicity, 
both in the conception and treatment of song-composition ; and they 
all exhibit a high polish, an almost fastidious finish of style, which, 
though it sometimes interferes with their effect by giving a sort of arti- 
ficial and drawing-room refinement, yet certainly makes them models 
of perfection in their peculiar manner. 

§ 9. As a Liberal, an Irishman, and a Catholic, Moore naturally felt 
intense hostility to those bigoted, retrograde, and tyrannical principles 
which governed for so long a time the policy of England towards his 
country; and for many j^ears he kept up, generally in the columns of 
the Opposition newspapers, a constant fire of brilliant and witty lam- 
poons. These were directed against the Tory party in general, and 
were showered with peculiar vivacity and stinging effect upon the 
Regent, afterwards George IV., Lord Eldon, Castlereagh, and all those 
who were opposed to tTie granting of any relaxation to the Irish Catho- 
lics. Moore's political squibs form an era in the history of this class 
of composition. Instead of the coarse and malignant invective which 
generally marked, before this time, these party lampoons, the wit of 
which could not always obtain pardon for their grossness and person- 
ality, Moore introduced a tone of good society, an elegance, a playful- 
ness, and an ingenuity which give them a permanent value quite inde- 
pendent of their momentary piquancy. The ingenious way in which 
out-of-the-way reading and unexpected allusion were brought to bear 
upon the topics of the day showed the extraordinary fertility of Moore's 
invention, and the brilliancy of his wit. His Odes on Cash, Corn, and 
> Catholics, his Fables for the Holy Alliance, show an inexhaustible 
invention of quaint and ingenious ideas, and the power of bringing the 
most apparently remote allusions to bear upon the person or thing 
selected for attack. The sharp and highly-polished shafts of Moore's 
satire must have inflicted exquisitely painful wounds upon the self-love 
of his victims; but they were wounds which rendered complaint impos- 
sible and retaliation difficult. Some of the most celebrated of these 
brilliant pasquinades were combined into a sort of story, as for exam- 
ple the Fudge Family in Paris, purporting to be a series of letters writtea 



408 THOMAS 310 ORE, [Chap. XXI. 

from France juot at the period of the Restoration of the Bourbons. The 
authors of the correspondence are Mr. Fudge, a creature of Lord Cas- 
tlereagh and a kind of political spy, his son Bob, a dandy and epicure 
of the first water, and his daughter Biddy, a delightful type of the 
frivolous, romance-reading Miss. The letters of the father give a bit- 
terly ironical picture of the baseness and servility of the triumphant 
Royalist party, those of the son are a delicious mixture of cookery and 
dress, and the daughter, in high-flying romantic jargon, describes her 
adventures with a distinguished-looking stranger with whom she falls 
in love, under the idea that he is the King of Prussia, then incognito 
at Paris, but who afterwards turns out, to her infinite Iiorror, to be a 
linen-draper's shopman. Nothing can be more animated, brilliant, and 
humorous than the description of the motley life and the giddy whirl 
of amusement in Paris at that memorable moment; and the whole is 
seasoned with such a multitude of personal and political allusions, that 
the Fudge Family will probably ever retain its popularity, as both a 
social and political sketch of a most interesting moment in modern 
European history. 

§ 10. The longer and more ambitious poems of Moore are Lalla 
Rookh and the Loves of the Angels^ the former being immeasurably 
the best, both as regards the interest of the story and the power with 
which it is treated. The plan of Lalla Rookh is original and happy J 
it consists of a little prose love-tale describing the journey of a beauti- 
ful Oriental princess from Delhi to Bucharia, where she is to meet her 
betrothed husband, the king of the latter country. Great splendor of 
imagination and immense stores of Eastern reading are lavished on the 
description of this gorgeous progress, and the details of scenery, man- 
ners, and ceremonial are given with an almost overpowering luxu- 
riance of painting, artfully relieved by a pleasant* epigrammatic humor 
displayed in the character.and criticisms of the princess's pompous and 
pedantic chamberlain, Fadladeen. For Lalla Rookh's amusement, 
when stopping for her night's repose, a young Bucharian poet, Fera- 
moz, is introduced, who chants to the accompaniment of his national 
guitar four separate poems of a narrative character, which are thus, so 
to say, incrusted in the prose story. The princess becomes gradually 
enamoured of the interesting young bard, and her growing melancholy 
continues till her arrival at her future home, where, in the person of her 
betrothed husband, who comes to meet her in royal pomp, she recog- 
nizes the muskian who had emploj'ed his disguise of a poor minstrel 
to gain that love which he deserved to enjoy as a monarch. The prose 
portion of the work is inimitably beautiful ; the whole style is sparkling 
with Oriental gems, and perfumed, as it were, with Oriental musk and 
roses ; and the very abuse of brilliancy and of a voluptuous languor, 
which in another kind of composition might be regarded as meretri- 
cious, onl}^ adds to the Oriental effect. The four poems to which the 
above story forms a setting are the Veiled Prophet, the Fire- Worship- 
pers, Paradise ajid the Peri, and the Light of the Harem ; all, of 
course, of an Eastern character, and the two first in some degree 



A. D. 1779-1852.] LALLA ROOKIL 409 

historical in their subject. The longest and most ambitious is the first, 
which is written in the rhjmed heroic couplet, while the others are 
composed in that irregular animated versification which Walter Scott 
and Bjron had brought into fashion. The Veiled Prophet is a story 
of love, fanaticism, and vengeance, founded on the career of an impos- 
tor who made his appearance in Khorassan, and after leading astray 
numberless dupes by a pretended miraculous mission to overthrow 
Mahometanism, was at last defeated by the armies of the faithful. He 
is-, in short, a kind of Mussulman Antichrist. The betrayal of the 
heroine by his diabolical arts, and the voluptuous temptations by which 
he induces a young Circassian chieftain to join his standard, the recog- 
nition of the lovers, and the tragical death of the deceiver and his vic- 
tims, form the plot of the story ; but the gorgeous splendor of the de- 
scriptions, and the unvarying richness of Oriental imagery in the style, 
are the chief qualities of the poem. Its defects are chiefly a too uni- 
form tone of agonized and intense feeling which becomes monotonous 
and strained, and the want of reality in the characters, the demoniac 
wickedness of Mokanna being contrasted with the superhuman exalta- 
tion of love and sorrow in the lovers. Nor did Moore possess full mas- 
tery over the grave and masculine insti-ument of the heroic versifica- 
tion ; and, therefore, despite the astonishing richness of the imagery 
and descriptions, the poet's peculiar genius is more favorably exhibited 
in the beautiful songs and lyrics which are occasionally interspersed, 
as particularly in the scene where Azim is introduced to a kind of fore- 
taste of the joj^s of Paradise. This portion of the poem is borrowed 
from the half-fabulous accounts given by historians of the initiation of 
the celebrated sect of the Assassins. The Fire- Worshippers is also a 
love-story, and is boui^d up with the cruel persecution by the Turks of 
the Guebres ; but under the disguise of the tyrannical orthodoxy 
opposed to the patriotic defenders of their country and their faith 
Moore undoubtedly intended to typify the resistance of the Irish Cath- 
olics to the persecuting domination of their English and Protestant 
oppressors. The love-adventures of Hafed the Guebre chief, and 
Fatima the daughter of the Mussulman tyrant, are not very original or 
very new; but some of the descriptions are aniftiated and striking, in 
spite of a rather over-strained and too emphatic tone. Paradise and 
the Peri is a very graceful apologue, and the scenes in which the exiled 
fairy seeks for the gift which is to secure her readmission to Heaven 
are picturesque and varied with great skill. She successively offers as 
her passport to the regions of bliss the last drop of blood shed by a 
patriot, the dying sigh of a self-devoted lover, but these are pronounced 
insufficient; at last she presents the tear of a repentant sinner, which 
is received by the guardian of the celestial portal as " the gift that is 
most dear to Heaven." Fanciful and tender to the highest degree, the 
subject of this little tale is worked out with great variety and pictu- 
resqueness of detail ; many of the scenes are extremely beautiful, and 
the whole story has a compactness and completeness which render it 
very charming. The Light of the Harem is a little love-episode be- 



410 THOMAS MOORE. [Chap. XXL 

tween " the magnificent son of Akbar " and his beautiful favorite Nour- 
mahal. A momentary coldness between the lovers is terminated hy 
the instrumentality of a mysterious and lovely enchantress, who evokes 
the Spirit of Music to furnish Nourmahal with a magic wreath of 
flowers. This has the power of giving to the voice of its wearer such 
a superhuman power and persuasiveness, that when she presents her- 
self disguised, to sing before her imperial lover at the Feast of Roses, 
all his former passion revives, and the amaiitiuin ires terminate with a 
reconciliation. The description of the fair flower-sorceress Namouna, 
the invocation, and above all the exquisitely varied and highly finished 
songs which are assigned to the different performers in the festival, all 
these aflbrd striking examples of the rich, graceful, and deliciously 
musical, if somewhat fantastic and artificial genius of Moore. 

The Loves of the Angels^ the only remaining poem of any length, 
need not detain us long. It is manifestly inferior to Lalla Rookh, not 
only in the impracticable nature of its subject, but in the monotony of 
its treatment. The fundamental idea is based upon that famous and 
much misunderstood passage of the Book of Genesis, where it is said 
that in the primeval ages " the sons of God " became enamoured of 
" the daughters of men," the issue of which connection was the Giants. 
Moore introduces three of these angels, who by yielding to an earthly 
love have forfeited the privileges of their celestial nature, and who 
relate, each in his turn, the story of their passion and its punishment. 
Independently of the improbability which is inseparable from the idea 
of an amour between beings so widely dissimilar in their nature, and 
which is destructive of the reader's interest, the incidents themselves 
are so little varied that the effect is tiresom*e in the extreme. This 
poem was written during Moore's retirement to Paris, and bears some 
traces of the influence of Byron's somewhat similar, and not much 
more successful production, Heaven and Earthy which was in its turn 
generated to a certain degree by the writings of Shelley. 

§ 11. The chief prose works of Moore are the three biographies of 
Sheridan, Byi"on, aod Lord Edward Fitzgerald, and the tale of the 
E^icurean^ the last intended originally to appear as a poem, but re- 
written in prose. It is a narrative of the first ages of Christianity, and 
describes the conversion, under the influence of love, of a young Athe- 
nian philosopher, who travels into Egypt, and is initiated into the 
mysterious worship of Isis. The descriptions are sometimes animated 
and picturesque, but there is a languor and vagueness in the characters 
and in the conduct of the story, which will prevent this production 
from obtaining a very permanent popularity. Moore's biographies, 
particularly that of Byron, are of great value : indeed his memoir of 
his illustrious friend and fellow-poet is the best that has yet appeared. 
It is particularly valuable from consisting, as far as possible, of extracts 
from Byron's own journals and correspondence, so that the subject of 
the biography is delineated in his own words, Moore furnishing little 
more than the arrangement and the connecting matter. Byron him- 
self furnished the materials for the biography which he desired Moora 



A. D. 1792-1821.] PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY. 411 

to undertake ; and it is delightful to see the cordial and appreciating 
way in which he, though a rival poet, speaks of the genius and char- 
acter of his glorious contemporary. 

§ 12. The life of Shelley presents many points of similarity with 
that of Byron, as well in great natural advantages, poisoned and ren- 
dered nugatory by untoward circumstances, as in unhappy domestic 
relations, and avowed hostility to society, forcing him to pass a great 
portion of his life in exile, and finally in constant revolt against reli- 
gious and social opinion. Percy Bysshe Shelley (1792-1821) was of 
an ancient and opulent family, the eldest son of Sir Timothy Shelley, 
and was born at Field Place, near Horsham, in Sussex, August 4, 
1792. He exhibited from his early childhood an intense and almost 
morbid sensibility, together with a strong inclination towards sceptical 
and antisocial speculation, which gradually ripened into atheism. At 
Eton his sensitive mind was shocked by the sight of boyish tyrann3', 
and he went to Oxford full of abhorrence for the cruelty and bigotry 
which he fancied pervaded all the relations of civilized life. An eager 
and desultory student, he rapidly filled his mind with the sceptical 
arguments against Christianity; and convinced that the concealment 
of his opinions was unworthy of the dignity of a philosopher, he pub- 
lished a tract in which he boldly avowed atheistic principles. Refusing 
to retract these opinions, he was expelled from the University; and 
this scandal, together with a marriage he contracted with a beautiful 
girl, his inferior in rank, cai^sed him to be renounced by his family. 
This runaway match was an unhappy one, and the young enthusiast 
resided, in great poverty, at various places in the North of England 
and in Wales, ardently devoting himself to metaphysical study and to 
the composition of his first wild but beautiful poems. He separated 
from his wife, who afterwards terminated her existence in a melancholy 
manner by suicide, and contracted during his wife's lifetime a new con- 
nection with the daughter of Godwin ; and having induced his family 
to maJvC him a considerable annual allowance, his life was from thence- 
forth relieved from pecuniary difBculties. The delicate state of his 
health rendered it advisable that he should leave England for a warmer 
climate, and the remainder of his life was passed abroad, with only 
one short interruption. In Switzerland he became acquainted with 
Byron, and the ardor of his character and the splendor of his genius 
undoubtedly exerted a powerful influence on his mighty contemporary. 
Indeed the brilliancy of Shelley's eloquence, and the boldness of his 
doctrines, appear to have ef||rcised an extraordinary fascination on aU 
who were brought within its circle. His abhorrence of what he looked 
upon as the social tyranny of law and custom was carried to a still 
higher pitch by a decision of the Court of Chancery, depriving the 
poet of the guardianship of his children. This has been stigmatized 
by Shelley's admirers as an act of odious bigotry; but it should be 
recollected that when he deserted his wife she took refuge with hei 
father, and that the latter, after his daughter's death, naturally refused 
to surrender his grandchildren to a man who had been guilty of a great 



412 PERCY BYSSIIE SHELLEY. [Chap. XXL 

and cruel crime against his family, and who proclaimed his intention 
of educating his children in his own irreligious opinions. He now 
migrated to Italy, where he kept up an intimate companionship with 
Bj^-on, still continuing to pour forth his strange and enchanting poetry 
in indefatigable profusion. He resided principally at Rome, and pro- 
duced there many of his finest productions. His death was early and 
tragic. His passion had always been boating; and returning in a small 
3-acht from Leghorn, in company with a friend and a single boatman, 
his vessel was caught in a squall and went down with all on board in 
the Gulf of Spezzia. Thus perished this great poet, at the age of 
thirty. His body was cast up on the coast some days after, and burned 
after the manner of the ancients by Byron and Leigh Hunt. His ashes 
w'ere interred in the beautiful cemetery near the tomb of Ccecilia 
Metella at Rome. 

§ 13. Shelley was all his life, both as a poet and as a man, a dreamer, 
a visionary : his mind was filled with glorious but unreal phantoms of 
the possible perfectibility of mankind. So ardent was his sympathy 
with his kind, and so intense his abhorrence of the corruption and suf- 
fering he saw around him, that the very intensity of that sympathy 
clouded his reason ; and he fell into the common error of all enthusi- 
asts, of supposing that, if the present organization of society were 
swept away, a millennium of virtue and happiness must ensue. He 
traced the misery and degradation of mankind to the institutions of 
religion, of government, and of marriage, and not to those passions 
which these institutions are intended, however imperfectly, to restrain. 
As a poet he was undoubtedly gifted with genius of a very high order, 
an immense, though somewhat vaporous richness and fertility of im- 
agination, an intense fire and energy in the reproduction of what he 
conceived, and a command over all the resources of metrical harmony 
such as no English poet has surpassed. He began to write almost 
from his childhood, and his first attempts were tales in prose, which 
have not been preserved. His poetical career commences with ^iceen 
Mab, a wild phantasmagoria of beautiful description and fervent 
declamation, written in that irregular unrhymed versification of which 
Southey's Thalaba is an example. The defect of this poem, as indeed 
of many of Shelley's other compositions, is a vagueness of meaning 
which often becomes absolutely unintelligible. Lovely, ideal, but 
cloudy images are continually evoked ; but they flit before us like the 
" shadow of a dream." The notes appended to ^ueen Mab exhibit the 
full audacity of Shelley's scepticism : his arguments, however, are little 
else but repetitions of the sneers of^^oltaire, and the objections, 
iTftny of them entirely sophistical, of preceding antagonists of Chris- 
tianity. 

Perhaps the finest, as it is the completest and most distinct, of Shel- 
ley's longer poems, is Alastor, or the Spirit of Solitude^ in which he 
depicts the sufferings of such a character as his own, a being of the 
warmest sympathies, and of the loftiest aspirations, driven into soli* 
tude and despair by the ingratitude of his kind, who are incapable of 



A. D. 1792-1821.] PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY. 413 

understanding and sympathizing with his aims. The descriptions in 
this poem are inimitably beautiful : woodland and river scenery are 
depicted with a wealth of tropic luxuriance that places Shelley in the 
foremost rank among the pictorial poets ; and the voyage of Alastor 
into his forest retreat is a passage which it would be difficult to parallel. 
This poem is written in blank verse. 

The Revolt of Islam, Hellas, and the Wtfc/i of Atlas are works which 
belong, more or less, to the category of Queen Mab — violent invectives 
against kingcraft, priestcraft, religion, and marriage, alternating with 
airy and exquisite pictures of scenes and beings of superhuman and 
unearthly splendor. The defect of these poems is the extreme obscu- 
rity of their general drift. Though particular objects stand out with 
the vividness and splendor of reality, and are lighted up with a dazzling 
glow of imagination, the effect of the whole is singularly vague and 
uncertain. Shelley's genius was of a high order; but instead of pos- 
sessing it he was possessed by it, as madmen were said, in ignorant 
ages, to be possessed by a devil : his Muse is a Pythoness upon her 
tripod, torn and convulsed by the utterance of which she is the channel. 
This p'ossession, if I may so style it, is the essential characteristic of 
Shelley's poetry — at once its strength and its weakness, the source of 
its charm and the origin of its defects. It is unnecessary to contrast 
this convulsive and morbid, though often admirable force, with the 
calm and godlike mastery over themselves of the true gods of poetry, 
of such minds as Homer, as Milton, as Shakspeare. 

Two important works of Shelley are dramatic in form — the Prome- 
theus Ufibound and the Cenci. The former, however, is rather a lyric 
in dialogue than a drama, while the latter is a regular tragedy. The 
Prometheus is one of the wildest and most unintelligible of all this 
poet's works, though it contains numberless passages ot the highest 
beauty and sublimity. The fundamental idea is based upon the gigantic 
drama of ^schylus, of which it is intended to be the complement; but 
Shelley has combined with the primeval and tremendous mythology of 
the Greek poet a multitude of persons and actions embodying the Titanic 
resistance of his philosophical creed to the abominations — as he re- 
garded them — springing from Christianity and the present organiza- 
tion of society. The most incongruous personages and systems are 
mingled together; Paganism and Christianity, the myths of Olympus 
and the theology of the Bible, the systems and the beliefs of different 
ages and countries, are brought into bewildering contact. This piece 
breathes throughout that strange union of fierce hostility to social 
systems and intense love for humanity in the abstract which forms so 
singular an anomaly in the writings of Shelley. Many of the descrip- 
tive passages are sublime, and noble bursts of lyric harmony alfernate 
with the wildest personifications and the fiercest invective. The Cenci 
is a regular tragedy on the severe and sculptural plan of Alfieri. The 
subject is one of the most frightful of those domestic crimes in which 
the black annals of medireval Italy are so prolific. It is founded on the 
famous crime of Beatrice di Cenci, driven by the diabolical wickednessj 
35* 



414 PERCY BYSSnE SHELLEY. [Chap. XXI. 

of her father to the crime of parricide, for which she sufiered the penalty 
of death at Rome ; but the character of the old Count is one of such 
monstrous and hideous depravity, that the story is in reality quite un- 
suited to the purpose of the dramatist. In spite of several powerful 
and striking scenes, this piece is of a morbid and unpleasing character, 
though the language is vigorous and masculine. 

§ 14. The narrative poem of Rosalind and Helen is an elaborate 
pleading against the institution of marriage. The poet contrasts two 
lives, one in which the indissolubility of the marriage tie is arbitrarily 
made out to be productive of nothing but misery, while in the other a 
connection not sanctioned by law and custom is shown in a most 
artractive light. But the parallel, like those so often brought forward 
in the writings of George Sand and other advocates for what is called 
the emancipation of women, has the disadvantage of proving nothing 
at all ; for it would have been just as easy to have inverted the two 
cases imagined ; and common and universal experience shows that 
though married life may, in particular instances, be unhappy, the gen- 
eral practical tendency of the conjugal bond is unquestionably calcu- 
lated to promote individual happiness as well as general morality. In 
the poem of Adonais Shelley has given us a beautiful and touching 
lament on the early death of Keats, whose short career gave such a 
noble foretaste of poetical genius that would have made him one of the 
greatest writers of his age. It is of the pastoral character, and is in 
some measure a revival of the beautiful Idyl of Moschus on the death 
of Bion, and reminds the reader of the eulogies of Sidney by Spenser, 
and the imrriortal Lycidas of Milton. One of the most imaginative 
and at the same time one of the obscurest of Shelley's poems is the 
Sensitive Plant, which combines the qualities of mystery and fanciful- 
ness to the highest degree, perpetually stimulating the reader with a 
desire to penetrate the meaning symbolized in the luxuriant description 
of the garden and the Plant, and filling him with the richest imagery 
and description. The versification of this poem is extraordinary for 
its melody and variety, and the reader is incessantly tantalized with the 
hope of unveiling the secret and abstract meaning which the poet has 
locked up, as the embryo is involved in the foldings of the petals of a 
flower. Many of Shelley's detached lyrics are of inexpressible beaut}', 
as the Ode to a Skylark, which breathes the very rapture of the bird's 
soaring song, the wild but picturesque imagery of the Cloud, besides a 
number of minor but not less beautiful productions. By a singular 
anomaly or contrast, Shelley, whose mind was so filled with images of 
superhuman grace and beauty, exhibits occasionally a morbid tendency 
to dwell on ideas of a hideous and repulsive character. Like the ocean, 
his genius, so pure, transparent, and sublime, the parent of so many 
forms of strange and fairy loveliness, hides within its abysses monstrous 
and horrible shapes at which imagination recoils. His mode of writ- 
ing is full of pictures, but the images subsidiary to or illustrative of 
the principal thought are often made more prominent than the thought 
they are intended to enforce. Nay, he very frequently goes farther, and 



A. D. 1796-182 1.] JOHN KEATS. 415 

makes the antitype and the type change places; the illustrative image 
becoming the principal object, and thus destroying the due subordi- 
nation of the ornament to the edifice it is intended to decorate. Shak- 
speare's miraculous imagination, it is true, seems sometimes almost to 
run away with him ; but when closely studied it will be found that he 
never fails to keep his principal idea always above and distinct from 
even his wildest outbursts of fancy, and ever remains master of his 
thought. 

§ 15. John Keats (1796-1821) was born in Moorfields, London, and 
was apprenticed to a surgeon in his fifteenth year. During his appren- 
ticeship he devoted most of his time to poetry, and in 1817 he published 
a volume of juvenile poems. This was followed in 1818 by his long 
poem Endymion, which was severely censured by the " Quarterly Re- 
view" — an attack which has been somewhat erroneously described as 
the cause of his death. It is probable that it gave a rude shock to 
Keats's highly sensitive nature, and to a physical condition much weak- 
ened by the attention which he had bestowed upon a dying brother. 
But he had a constitutional tendency to consumption, which would 
most likely have developed itself under any circumstances. He went 
for the recovery of his health to Rome, where he died on the 24th of 
February, 1821. In the previous year he had published another vol- 
ume of poems, Lamia, Isabella, d-c, in which was included the frag- 
ment of his remarkable poem entitled Hyperion. 

It was the misfortune of Keats to be either extravagantly praised or 
unmercifully condemned. This arose on the one hand from the extreme 
partiality of friendship, and on the other from resentment of that 
friendship, connected as it was with party politics and with peculiar 
views of society. That which is most remarkable in his works is the 
wonderful profusion of figurative language, often exquisitely beautiful 
and luxuriant, but sometimes purely fantastical and far-fetched. The 
peculiarity of Shelley's style, to which we may give the name of incat- 
enation, Keats carries to extravagance — one word, one image, one 
rhyme suggests another, till we quite lose sight of the original idea, 
which is smothered in its own sweet luxuriance, like a bee stifled in 
honey. Shakspeare and his school, upon whose manner Keats un- 
doubtedly endeavored to form his style of writing, have, it is true, this 
peculiarity of language; but in them the images never run away with 
the thought — the guiding master-idea is ever present. These poets 
never throw the reins on their Pegasus, even when soaring to *'the 
brightest heaven of invention." With them the images are produced 
by a force acting ab ijifra ; like wild flowers springing from the very 
richness of the ground. In Keats the force acts ab extra ; the flowers 
are forcibly fixed in the earth, as in the garden of a child, who cannot 
wait till they grow there of themselves. Keats deserves high praise for 
one very peculiar and original merit: he has treated the classical 
mj'thology in a way absolutely new, i-epresenting the Pagan deities not 
as mere abstractions of art, nor as mere creatures of popular belief, 
but giving them passions and affections like our own, highly purified 



416 THOMAS CAMPBELL. [Chap. XXI. 

and idealized, however, and in exquisite accordance with the lovely 
scenery of ancient Greece and Italy, and with the golden atmosphere 
of primeval existence. This treatment of a subject, which ordinary 
readers would consider hopelessly worn and threadbare, is certainly not 
Homeric, nor is it Miltonic, nor is it in the manner of any of the great 
poets who have employed the mythological imagery of antiquity ; but 
it is productive of very exquisite pleasure, and must, therefore, be in 
accordance with true principles of art. In Hyperion^ in the Ode to 
Pan, in the verses on a Grecian' Urfi, we find a noble and airy strain 
of beautiful classic imagery, combined with a perception of natural 
loveliness so luxuriant, so rich, so delicate, that the rosy dawn of Greek 
poetry seems combined with all that is most tenderly pensive in the 
calm sunset twilight of romance. Such of Keats's poems as are found- 
ed on more modern subjects — The Eve of St. Agjies for example, or 
The Pot of Basil, a beautiful anecdote versified from Boccaccio — are, 
to our taste, inferior to those of his productions in which the scenery 
and personages are mythological. It would seem as if the severity of 
ancient art, which in the last-mentioned works acted as an involun- 
tary check upon a too luxuriant fancy, deserted him when he left the 
antique world ; and the absence of true, deep, intense passion (his pre- 
vailing defect) becomes necessarily more painfully apparent, as well as 
the discordant mingling of the prettinesses of modern poetry with the 
directness and unaffected simplicity of Chaucer and Boccaccio. But 
Keats was a true poet. If we consider his extreme youth and delicate 
health, his solitary and interesting self-instruction, the severity of the 
attacks made upon him by hostile and powerful critics, and albove all 
the original richness and picturesqueness of his conceptions and im- 
agery, even when they run to waste, he appears to be one of the great- 
est of the young poets — resembling the Milton oi Lycidas, or the Spen- 
ser of the Tears of the Muses, 

§ 18. Thomas Campbell (i 777-1 844), who was born on the 27th of 
July, 1777, at Glasgow, was educated at the University in that city, 
where he distinguished himself by his translations from the Greek 
poets. In 1799, when he was only in his twenty-second year, he 
published his Pleasures of Hope, which was received with a burst of 
enthusiasm as hearty as afterwards welcomed the Lay of the Last 
Minstrel and Childe Harold. Shortly afterwards he travelled abroad, 
where the warlike scenes he witnessed and the battle-fields he visited 
suggested some noble lyrics. To the seventh edition of the Pleasures of 
Hope, published in 1802, were added the magnificent verses on the 
battle of Hohenlindeji, Te Mariners of Engla7id, the most popular of 
his songs, and LochieVs Warning. In the following year he settled in 
London, married, and commenced in earnest the pursuit of literature 
as a profession. His works were written chiefly for the booksellers, 
and, with the exception of his Gertrude of Wyoming, which appeared 
in 1809, do not require any notice in a history of literature. In 1843 
he retired to Boulogne, "vVhere he died in the following year. His body 
wab brought over to England and inten-ed in Westminster Abbey. 



A. D. 1784-1859.] . LEIGH HUNT. 417 

To his lyrics, which are among the finest in any language, Campbell 
will owe his lasting fame. In Campbell, as in the general state of 
literary feeling reflected in his works, a complete and vast change had 
taken place. In the fluctuation of popular taste, in the setting of that 
current, which, flowing from the old classicism, has carried us insensi- 
bly but irresistibly first through Romanticism, and has now brought 
us to a species of metaphysical quietism, there have been many tem- 
porary changes of direction, nay, some apparent stoppages. Despite 
the effort and impulsion of the Byronian poetry — the poetry o^ passion 
— there were writers who not only retained many characteristics of the 
former school that had to appearance been exploded, but even some- 
thing of the old tone of sentiment, modified, of course, by the aesthetic 
principles which were afterwards to be completely embodied in such a 
cycle of great works as constitutes a school of literature. Campbell is 
one of the connecting links between the two systems so opposite and 
apparently so incompatible ; and in comparing his first work with his 
last we find a perfect image of the gradual transition from the one 
style of Meriting to the other. 

§ 17. In the circle of poets with BjTon, Shelley, and Keats, outliving 
by many years the latest of these, must be mentioned the names of 
Leigh Hunt and Walter Savage Landor. 

James Henry Leigh Hunt (1784-1S59) was the son of a West 
Indian, who, resident in the United States, had remained a firm loyalist, 
and after the declaration of independence found it advisable to come 
over to this country. The poet was born at Southgate, Middlesex, and 
received his education at Christ's Hospital, which he left "in the same 
rank, at the same age, and for the same reasons, as Lamb." He stam- 
mered, and therefore " Grecian I could not be." In 1805 he joined his 
brother in editing a newspaper called the Netvs, and shortly aftei-wards 
established the Examiner^ which still exists. A conviction for libel on 
the prince regent detained him in prison for two years, the happiest 
portion of his life : he was free from the worry and care which never 
afterwards forsook him. Soon after he left prison he published the 
Story of Rimini^ an Italian tale in verse (1816), which contains some 
exquisite poetry, both as to conception and execution. About i8i8 he 
started the Indicator, a weekly paper, in imitation of the Spectator ; 
and in 1822 he went to Italy, to assist Lord BjTon and Shelley in their 
projected paper called the Liberal. Shelley died soon after Hunt's 
arrival in Italy; and though Hunt was kindly received by Byron, and 
lived for a time in his house, there was no congeniality between them. 
The Liberal was discontinued, and they parted on bad terms. On his 
return to England, Hunt published an ?iQ.zo\\r\\.oi Lord Byron and some 
of his Contemporaries, which was universally condemned as both 
ungenerous and unjust. He continued to write for periodicals, and 
published various poems from time to time, of which one of the most 
celebrated was Captain Srvord and Captain Pen. He died in 1859, ^^ 
the age of seventy-five, having enjoyed during the latter years of his 
life a pension of 200/. a year from the Crown. Leigh Himt's poetry is 



418 WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR. [Chap. XXT. 

graceful, sprightly, and full of fancy. Though not possessing much 
soul and emotion, it has true life and genius, while here and there his 
verse is lit up with wit, or glows with tenderness and grace. His prose 
writings consist of essays, collected under the title of the Indicator and 
/lis Companions ; Sir Ralph Esher, a novel ; The Old Court Suburb ; 
and his lives of Wycherley, Congreve^ Vanbrugh^ and Farquhar^ pre- 
fixed to his edition of their dramatic writings. 

§ 18. Walter Savage Landor (1775-1864) was bom on the 30th 
of January, 1775. His father was a gentleman of good family and 
wealthy circumstances residing in Warwickshire. The son entered 
Rugby at an early age, and thence proceeded to Trinity College, Ox- 
ford. Like inany others who have taken important literary positions, 
he left the University without a degree; and though intended at first 
for the army, and afterwards for the bar, he declined both professions, 
and threw himself into literature, with the assistance of a liberal 
allowance from his father. In 1795 his first work — a volume of poems 
— appeared, followed early in the present century by a translation into 
Latin of Gebir, one of his own English poems. Landor had no small 
facility in classical composition, and he appeared to have the power of 
transporting himself into the times and sentiments of Greece and 
Rome. This is still more clearly seen in the Heroic Idyls (1820), in 
Latin verse; and the reproduction of Greek thought in The Hellenics 
is one of the most successful attempts of its kind. At the death of his 
father, the poet found himself in possession of an extensive estate ; but 
longing for a life of greater freedom and less monotony than that of 
an English country-gentleman, he sold his patrimony and took up his 
abode on the continent, where he resided during the rest of his life, with 
occasional visits to his native country. The republican spirit which led 
him to take part as a volunteer in the Spanish rising of 1808 continued to 
burn fiercely to the last. He even went so far as to defend tyrannicide, 
and boldly offered a pension to the widow of any one who would mur- 
der a despot. Between 1820 and 1830 he was engaged upon his great- 
est work, Imaginary Conversatio?is of Literary Alen and Statesiuen. 
This was followed in 1S31 by Poems, Letters by a Conservative, Satire 
on Satirists (1836), Pentameron afid Pentalogue (1837), and a long 
series in prose and poetry, of which the chief are the Hcllefiics enlarged 
and completed, Dry Sticks Fagoted, and The Last Fruit off an Old 
Tree. He resided towards the close of his life at Bath ; but some four 
or five years before his death, a libel on a lady, for which he was con- 
demned to paj' heavy damages, drove him again from his country, and 
he retired to his Italian home near Florence, and there in serene old 
age " the Nestor of English poets," one of the last literary links with 
the age of the French Republic, passed quietly away. He died on the 
17th of September, 1864, an exile from his country, misunderstood from 
the very individuality of his genius by the majority of his countrymen, 
but highly appreciated by thos> who could rightly estimate the works 
he has left behind him. 

It has been well said of the author of Imaginary Conversations that 



A. D. 1775-1864.] WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR. 419 

no writer presents " as remarkable an instance of the strength and 
"weakness of the human understanding." Landor was a man of refined 
tastes and cultured mind. A gentleman bj birth, every line of his 
writings gives proofs of the learned and polished intellect. But unhap- 
pily his great powers were marred by the heedlessness and rashness of 
his disposition, strong passions, and an unrestrained will. There is 
no regard for the thoughts and feelings of others. He therefore is 
too fond of paradox and unfounded assertion. His opinion must be 
received, because it is his ; he runs against every one else, and believes 
what no one else believes, and scouts those ideas which llave received 
universal assent. Thus Napoleon Bonaparte was a man of no genius ; 
Alfieni the greatest man that Europe has seen ; Pitt was a poor creature, 
and Fox a charlatan. It was this unhappy inconsistency, paradox, and 
wilfulness, which prevented his writings obtaining that position which 
was their due. His style is nervous and graceful. In the hnaginary 
Convcrsatio7is the tones and manners of the age or individual are well 
rendered, and the whole work is evidently that of a man deeply in ear- 
nest, yet wanting in that gentleness, considerateness, and prudence 
which are required in a really valuable production. 



420 WILLIAM WORDSWORTH. [Chap. XXII. 

CHAPTER XXII. 

WORDSWORTH, COLERIDGE, AND SOUTHEY. 

$ 1. 'William;*\Vordswoiith : his life and works. § 2. Criticism of his poetry. 
§ 3. Samuel Tatlok Coleridge: his life. § 4. His literary character and 
poems. ^ 5. His prose works and conversation. § 6. Robert Southey : his 
life. § 7. His poems. Joan of Arc. Madoc. Thalaba. Kehama. Rodenck. 
§ 8. His prose works. 

§ 1. William Wordsworth (1770-1850), the founder of the so-called 
Lake School of poetry, was born at Cockermouth, in Cumberland, 
April 7, 1770. In his ninth year he was sent to a school at Hawkshead, 
in the most picturesque district of Lancashire, where the scholars, in- 
stead of living under the same roof with a master, were boarded among 
the villagers. They were at liberty to roam over the surrounding coun- 
try by day and by night, and Wordsworth largely availed himself of 
this privilege. The relish for the beauties of creation, to which he 
mainly owes his place among poets, was early manifested and rapidly 
developed. In his fourteenth year his father died, and the care of the 
orphans devolved on their uncles. The poet was sent to St. John's 
College, Cambridge, in 1787, where he spent his time chiefly in the 
study of the English poets, and in the ordinary amusements of the 
University. After taking his degree in 1791, he went over to France, 
where he eagerly embraced the ideas of the wildest champions of 
liberty in that country. Wordsworth's eye, much more practised to 
scan landscapes than men, nowhere penetrated beneath the surface; 
and he concluded that a king and his courtiers were the only French- 
men by whom power could be abused. His political sentiments, how- 
ever, became gradually modified, till in later life they settled down into 
steady Conservatism in Church and State. To vindicate his talents, 
which his Cambridge career had brought into question, he, in 1793, 
produced to the world — hurriedly, he says, though reluctantly — two 
little poems. An Evening Walk and Descriptive Sketches. If the 
Evening Walk was hastily corrected it had not been hastily composed, 
for it was begun in 1787, and continued through the two succeeding 
years. The metre and language are in the school of Pope, but they 
are the work of a promising scholar, and not of a master. The 
Descriptive Sketches had been penned at Orleans and Blois, in 1791 
and 1792. The execution is of the same school as the Evening Walk, 
but the language is simpler, and so far superior. 

In 1793 V/ordsworth commenced, and in 1794 completed, the story 
of Salisbury I^lain, or, Guilt and Sorro'cV, which did not appear entire 
till 1S42, but of which he published an extract in 179S, under the title 
of The Female Vagrant. In regard to time it is separated from the 



A. D. 1770-1850.] WILLIAM WORDSWORTH. 421 

Descrt;ptive Sketches by a span, but in respect of merit they are parted 
by a gulf. He had ceased to write in the train of Pope, and composed 
in the stanza of his later favorite Spenser. There is an exquisite sim- 
plicity and polish in the language, equally removed from the bald prat- 
tle of many of the Lyrical Ballads and the turgid verbosity of many 
pages in The Excursion. It was about this time that the poet received 
a legacy of 900/., which enabled him to indulge the great wish of his 
heart — to live with his sister Dorothy, and to devote himself entirely 
to poetrj'. The autumn of 1795 found them settled in a house at Race- 
down, in Dorsetshire. It is a remarkable feature of his history that, 
during all the time he was a hotheaded, intractable rover, he had lived 
a life of Spartan virtue. His Hawkshead training had inured him to 
cottage board and lodging, and the temptations of London and Paris 
had failed to allure him to extravagance or vice. His temperance and 
economy enabled him to derive more benefit from the above-men- 
tioned small bequest than would have accrued to poets in general from 
five times the sum. 

Wordsworth now entered upon his poetical profession by paraphras- 
ing several of the satires of Juvenal, and applying them to the abuses 
which he conceived to reign in high places. These, however, he never 
published. His second experiment was the tragedy of The Borderers^ 
which was considered, when it appeared, an unqualified failure. It 
was in June, 1797, when this tragedy was on the verge of completion, 
that its first critic arrived at Racedown. Coleridge formed a close 
friendship with Wordsworth and his sister, and the following year they 
started upon a tour together in Germany. To furnish funds for this 
journey the two friends published their Lyrical Ballads^ the first piece 
in which was Coleridge's Ancient Mariner^ but the remaining poems 
were all by Word&worth. Of these, three or four were in Wordsworth's 
finest manner — about the same number partly good, partly puerile ; 
and the remainder belonged to a class all but universally condemned. 

On their return to England in 179S Wordsworth and his sister settled 
at Grasmere, from whence they afterwards went to Allan Bank, and 
finally in 1813 to Rydal Mount. It was from his residence in this dis- 
trict that he and his friends Coleridge, Southey, De Quincey, and 
W'lson. received the name of the Lake School. He now set himself 
to work, both by precept and practice, to inculcate those peculiar views 
of poetry which are mentioned more particularly below, and which 
encountered for a long time the fierce hostility of the critics. In 1799 
he commenced The Prelude^ which was not published in full till after 
his death. This metrical autobiography is valuable because it pre- 
serves many facts and opinions which might otherwise have gone unre- 
corded; but, upon the whole, it is bald and cumbrous as a poem. In 
1800 he published an enlarged edition of the Ballads. Thirty-seven 
pieces were added to the original collection, and the supplement mate- 
rially increased the proportion of good to bad. 

The j^ear 1802 was an eventful one to the poet. He received a con- 
siderable accession of fortu*^" -vhu-h l^^H been due to his father at the 



422 WILLIAM WORDSWORTH. [Chap. XXII. 

time of his death, but which the children had not recovered till now. 
The poet's share enabled him to marry a lady to whom he had been 
long attached, Mary Hutchinson, his sister's friend. In 1807 he gave 
to the world two new volumes of Poems, which contained the Soug- at 
the Feast of Brougham Castle, and many more of his choicest pieces. 
Here appeared his first sonnets, and several of them are still ranked 
among his happiest efforts in that department. Wordsworth's next 
publication was in prose. His indignation rose at the grasping tyran- 
ny of Napoleon ; and in 1809 he put forth a pamphlet against the Con- 
vention of Cintra. The sentiments were spirit-stirring, but the manner 
of conveying them was the reverse, and his protest passed unheeded. 
His great work. The Excursion, appeared in 1814. This is a fragment 
of a projected great moral epic, discussing and solving the mightiest 
questions concerning God, nature, and man, our moral constitution, 
our duties, and our hopes. Its dramatic interest is exceedingly small ; 
its structure is very inartificial; and the characters represented in it are 
devoid of life and probability. That an old Scottish pedler, a country 
clergyman, and a disappointed visionary, should reason so continuous- 
ly and so sublimely on the destinies of man, is in itself a gross want 
of verisimilitude ; and the purely speculative nature of their intermina- 
ble arguments, 

" On knowledge, will, and fate," 

are not relieved from their monotony even by the abundant and beau- 
tiful descriptions and the pathetic episodes so thickly interspersed. It 
is Wordsworth, too, who is speaking always and alone ; there is no 
variety of language, none of the shock and vivacity of intellectual 
wrestling; but, on the other hand, so sublime are the subjects on which 
they reason, so lofty and seraphic is their tone, and so deep a glow of 
humanity is perceptible throughout, that no reader, but such as seek in 
poetry for mere food for the curiosity and imagination, can study this 
grand composition without ever-increasing reverence and delight. 

In 1815 appeared The White Doe of Rylstone, the only naarative 
poem of any length which Wordsworth ever wrote. The incidents are 
of a simple and exceedingly mournful kind; turning chiefly on the 
complete ruin of a north-country family in the civil wars : but the 
atmosphere of mystical and supernatural influences in which the 
personages move, the superhuman purity and unearthliness of the 
characters, and above all the part played in the action by the white 
doe, which gives name to the work, — all these things contribute to 
communicate to the production a fantastic, unreal, and somewhat 
affected air. Peter Bell was published in 1819, and was received with 
a shout of ridicule. The hierophant had neglected no precaution to 
provoke the sneers of the profane. He stated in the dedication that the 
work had been completed twenty years, and that he had continued cor- 
recting it in the interval to render it worthy of a permanent place in 
our national literature. An announcement so well calculated to awaken 
the highest expectation was followed by a prologue more puerile than 



A. D. 1770-1850.] WILLIAM WORDSWORTH. 423 

aojthing which ever proceeded from a man with a fiftieth part of his 
powers. The work is meant to be serious, and is certainly not facetious, 
but there is so much farcical absurdity of detail and language that the 
mind is revolted. This poem was followed by T/ie Wagover, which 
was not more successful. Wordsworth's whole returns from his litera- 
ry labors up to 1819 had not amounted to 140/. ; but through the influ- 
ence of Lord Lonsdale, he had been appointed in 1813 distributor of 
stamps for the County of Westmoreland, which brought him about 
500/. a year; and it was between 1830 and 1840 that the flood which 
floated him into favor rose to its height. Scott and Byron had in suc- 
cession entranced the world. They had now withdrawn, and no third 
king arose to demand homage. It was in the lull which ensued that 
the less thrilling notes of the Lake bard obtained a hearing. It was 
during this time that he published his Ecclesiastical Sonnets and Tar- 
row revisited, and in 1842 he brought forth a complete collection of 
his poems. His fame was now firmly established. On the death of 
Southey in 1843 he was made Poet-Laureate. He died on April 23, 
1850, when he had just completed his eightieth year. 

§ 2. The poetry of Wordsworth has passed through two phases of 
criticism, in the first of which his defects were chiefly noted, and in the 
second his merits. Already we have arrived at the third era, when the 
majority of readers are just to both. An acute critic, to whom we have 
been much indebted in the preceding sketch of the poet's life and works, 
gives the fairest estimate that has appeared of Wordsworth's poetry : 
"It is constantly asserted that he effected a reform in the language of 
poetry, that he found the public bigoted to a vicious and flowery dic- 
tion, which seemed to mean a great deal and really meant nothing, 
and that he led them back to sense and simplicity. The claim appears 
to us to be a fanciful assumption, refuted by the facts of literary history. 
Feebler poetasters were no doubt read when Wordsworth began to 
write than would now command an audience, however small : but they 
had no real hold upon the public, and Cowper was i\\Q only pof>ula> 
bard of the day. His masculine and unadorned English was relished 
in every cultivated circle in the land, and Wordsworth was the child, 
and not the father, of a reaction, which, after all, has been greatly ex- 
aggerated. Goldsmith was the most celebrated of Cowper's immediate 
predecessors, and it will not be pretended that The Deserted Village 
and The Traveller ^re among the specimens of inane phraseology. Burns 
had died before Wordsworth had attracted notice. The wonderful Peas- 
ant's performances were admired by none more than by Wordsworth 
himself: were they not already far piore popular than the Lake-poet's 
have ever been — or ever will be.'* and were they, in any respect or de- 
gree, tinged with the absurdities of the Hayley school .? When we come 
forward we find that the men of the generation were Scott, Byron, 
Moore, Campbell, Crabbe, and one or two others. Wordsworth himself 
was little read in comparison, and if he had anything to do with weaning 
the public from their vitiated predilections, it must have been through 
his influence on these more popular poets, whose works represented the 



424 WILLIAM WORDS WORT ff. [Chap. XXII. 

reigning taste of the time. But nothing is more certain than that not 
a single one of them had formed his style upon that of the Lyrical 
Ballads or The Exairsion. . . . Whatever influence Wordsworth 
may have exercised on poetic style, be it great or small, was by deviat- 
ing in practice from the principles of composition for which he con- 
tended. Both his theory, and the poems which illustrate it, continue 
to this hour to be all but universally condemned. He resolved to write 
as the lower orders talked ; and though where the poor are the speak-, 
ers it would be in accordance with strict dramatic propriety, the system 
would not be tolerated in serious poetry. Wordsworth's rule did not 
stop at the wording of dialogues. He maintained that the colloquial 
■anguage of rustics was the most philosophical and enduring which 
the dictionary affords, and the fittest for verse of every description. 
Any one who mixes with the common people can decide for himself 
whether their conversation is wont to exhibit more propriety of lan- 
guage than the sayings of a Johnson or the speeches of a Burke. If 
it were really the case, it would follow that literary cultivation is an 
evil, and that we ought to learn English of our ploughboys, and not 
of our Shakspeares and Miltons. But there can be no risk in asserting 
that the vocabulary of rustics is rude and meagre, and their discourse 
negligent, diffuse, and weak. The vulgarisms, which are the most 
racy, vigorous, and characteristic part of their speech, Wordsworth 
admitted must be dropped, and either he must have substituted equiva- 
lent expressions, when the language ceases to be that of the poor, oi 
he must have put up with a stock of words which, after all these de- 
ductions, would have been scarcely more copious than that of a South- 
Sea savage. When his finest verse is brought to the test of his prin- 
ciple, they agree no better than light and darkness. Here is his way 
of describing the effects of the pealing organ in King's College Chapel, 
with its ' self-poised roof, scooped into ten thousand cells : ' — 

* But from the ajpis of silence — list ! O list ! — 
The music bursteth into second life ; 
The notes luxuriate, every stone is kissed 
With sound, or ghost of sound, in mazy strife I ' 

^ This is to write like a splendid poet, but it is not to write as rustics 
talk. A second canon laid down by Wordsworth was, that poetic-dic- 
tion is, or ought to be, in all respects the same with the language of 
prose; and as prose has a wide range, and numbers among its triumphs 
such luxuriant eloquence as that of Jeremy Taylor, the princ>ple, if 
just, would be no less available for the advocates of ornamental verse 
than for the defence of the homely style of the Lyrical Ballads. But 
the proposition is certainly too broadly stated, and, though the argu- 
ment holds good for the adversary, because the phraseology which is 
not too rich for prose can never be considered too tawdry for poetry, 
3'ct it will not warrant the conclusions of Wordsworth, that poetry should 
never rise above prose, or disdain to descend to its lowest level," * 

* Quarterlij Revieiv, vol. xcii. p. 233 seq. 



A. D. 1772-1834-] SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE. 425 

§ 3. Samuel Taylor Coleridge (1772-1834) was born at Ottery- 
St.-Mary, in Devonshire, October 21, 1772. He was left an orphan at 
an early age, and was educated at Christ's Hospital ; from whence he 
proceeded to Jesus College, Cambridge. He never took his degree, 
leaving the University in his second year in a fit of despondency, occa- 
sioned, it is said, by unrequited love, and enlisting in the 15th Dra- 
goons, under the assumed name of Comberbatch. One of the officers, 
learning his real history, communicated with his friends, by whom his 
discharge was at once effected. After this adventure he formed a 
scheme for emigrating to the banks of the Susquehanna in North 
America, and there founding a model republic, with a community of 
goods, from which all selfishness was to be banished. He found in 
Southe}' and some other young men, as ardent and inexperienced as 
himself, warm support; but the " Pantisocracy," as Coleridge called it, 
could not be carried into effect from want of funds. Coleridge then 
turned his attention to literature. He had been introduced to Joseph 
Cottle, a benevolent bookseller at Bristol, who gave him thirty guineas 
for a small volume of poems, which were published in 1794. In the 
following year the poet married Miss Sarah Fricker of Bristol, a sister 
of Southey's wife. At this time he contributed verses to one of the 
London papers. Another volume of poems appeared in 1796. During 
the three first years after his marriage he lived in Wordsworth's neigh- 
borhood, and his share in the celebrated Lyrical Ballads, published in 
1797, has been already mentioned. At this period also his tragedy, 
Remorse, was written. In 1798 Coleridge visited Germany, where he 
studied the language and 'literature. After his return he again took up 
his abode in the Lake District, near Wordsworth and Southey. He 
now contributed to some periodicals, and wrote both on politics and 
literature. In 1810 he quitted the Lakes, leaving his wife and children 
wholly dependent upon Southey, — a striking illustration of his well- 
known indifference to personal and pecuniary obligations. He then 
took up his residence in London, finding a home in the house of Mr. 
Gillman at Highgate, where he died, July 25, 1834. 

§ 4. The literary character of Coleridge resembles some vast but 
unfinished palace; all is gigantic, beautiful, and rich, but nothing is 
complete, nothing compact. He was all his days, from his youth to his 
death, laboring, meditating, projecting; and yet all that he has left us 
bears a painful character of imperfection. His mind was eminently 
dreamy, tinged with that incapacity for acting Vfh'ich forms the charac- 
teristic of the German intellect; his genius was multiform, many-sided; 
and for this reason, perhaps, could not at once seize upon the right 
point of view. No man, probably, ever existed who thought more, 
and more intensely, than Coleridge ; few ever possessed a vaster 
treasury of learning and knowledge; and yet how little has he given us, 
or rather how few of his works are in any way worthy of the undoubted 
majesty of his genius! Materials, indeed, he has left us in enormous 
quantity — a store of thoughts and principles, particularly in the 
department of aestheti" -'•.ience — golden masses of reason, either pain- 



426 SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE. [Chap. XXH 

fully sifted from the rubbish of obscure and forgotten authors, or dug 
up from the rich depths of his own mind ; but these are still in the state 
of raw materials, or only partially worked. 

He began life as a Unitarian and republican ; his intellectual powers 
were chiefly formed in the transcendental schools of Germany, but he 
ultimately became from conviction a most sincere adherent to the doc- 
trines of the Anglican church, and an enthusiastic defender of our 
monarchical constitution. Though the lyrics to which we have alluded 
(the finest of which are the odes On the Departing- Tear, and that 
supposed to be written At Sunrise in the Valley of Cha?nouni) are 
somewhat injured by their air of effort, they are indubitably works of 
singular richness and exquisitely melodized language. In his trans- 
lation of Schiller's Wallenstein Coleridge was most successful. With 
almost all readers it will forever have the charm of an original work. 
Indeed, many beautiful parts of the translation are exclusively the 
property of the English poet, who used a manuscript copy of the Ger- 
man text before its publication by the author. Although he has not 
scrupled in some instances to open out the hint of the original, and 
even to graft new thoughts upon it, his translation is, in the best 
and highest sense of that term, pre-eminently faithful. That Coleridge 
had no power of true dramatic creation is strongly proved by his 
tragedy of The Remorse, in which, in spite of very striking features of 
character (as in Ordonio), and a multitude of incidents of the most 
violent kind, he has not produced a drama which eitlier excites curiosity 
or moves any strong degree of pity. What is most beautiful in the 
work is all pure description, and in no sense advances the action or 
exhibits human passions. It is strange, perhaps, but yet by no means 
unintelligible, that a man who was so unsuccessful in creating emotions 
of a theatrical kind should have been a most consummate critic of the 
dramatic productions of others. Till he wrote, deep and universal as 
had been the admiring love — almost the adoration — of the English for 
Shakspeare, there still remained, in their judgment, something of that 
de haut en bas tone which characterizes all the criticisms anterior to 
Coleridge's Lectures on Shakspeare. Coleridge first showed that the 
creator of Hamlet and Othello was not only the greatest genius, but 
also the most consummate artist, that ever existed. Nothing can give 
us a higher opinion of the nobility of Coleridge's mind than the fact 
that he was the first to make some approach to the discovery of those 
laws which, expressly or intuitively, governed the evolutions of the 
Shakspearian drama — that he possessed a soul vast enough, deep 
enough, multiform enough, to give us some faint idea of the dimen- 
sions, the length, and breadth, and depth, of that huge sea of truth 
and beauty. 

Of the poems by wRich Coleridge is best known, both in England 
and abroad, the most universally read is undoubtedly The Ancient 
Mariner, a wild, mystical, phantasmagoric narrative, most picturesquely 
related in the old English ballad measure, and in language to which an 
air of antiquity is skilfully given in admirable harmony with the spec- 



A. D. 1774-1843.] ROBERT SOUTHET. 427 

tral character of the events. The whole poem is a splendid dream, 
filling the ear with the strange and floating melodies of sleep, and the 
eje with a shifting, vaporous succession of fantastic images, gloomy or 
radiant. 

The poem of ChristaheU and the fragment called Kuhla Khan, are 
of the same mystic, unreal character : indeed, Coleridge asserted that 
the latter was actually composed in a dream — an affirmation which may 
well be believed, for it is a thousand times more unintelligible than the 
general run of dreams. It is a dream, perhaps ; but it is an opium 
dream — '' segri somnium " — without so much as that faint coherency 
which even a dream must have to give pleasure in a picture or in a 
poem. Like everything that Coleridge ever wrote, the versification is 
exquisite. His language puts on every form, it expresses every sound; 
he almost writes to the eye and to the ear. But in Christahel, which 
has some slight pretension to be an intelligible narrative, or, at least, 
part of an intelligible narrative, the mixture of two realities is not har- 
moniously subordinated; and the effect is, of course, fatal to the poem 
as a work of art. In point of completeness, exquisite harmony of feel- 
ing, and unsurpassable grace ofimagery and language, Coleridge has 
left nothing superior to the charming little poem entitled Love, or 
Genevieve. 

§ 5. Coleridge takes rank also as a psychologist, moralist, and gen- 
eral philosopher. The Friend, the Lay Scr7non, Wiq Aids to Rejection, 
and the Church a?id State, are works which have exercised a great 
influence upon the intellectual character of his generation. Bi^t his 
chief reputation through life was founded less upon his writings than 
upon his conversation, or rather what may be called his conversational 
oratory, which must have resembled those disquisitions of the Greek 
philosophers, of which the dialogues of Plato give some idea. It is 
in his innumerable fragments, in his rich but desultory remains (pub- 
lished posthumously under the title of Table Talk), in casual remarks 
scribbled like Sibylline leaves, often on the margin of borrowed books, 
and in imperfectly-reported conversations, that we must look for proofs 
of Coleridge's immense but incompletely recorded powers. From a 
careful study of these we shall conceive a high admiration of his genius, 
and a deep regret at the fragmentary and desultory manifestations of 
his powers. We shall also appreciate the vastness and multiform char- 
acter of a mind to which nothing was too difficult, or too obscure ; a 
noble tone of moral dignity " softened into beauty " by the largest 
sympathy, and, above all, an admirable catholicity of taste, which 
could unerringly pitch upon what was beautiful and true, and find its 
pabulum in all schools, all writers ; perceiving, as it were intuitively, 
the value and the charm of the most unpromising books and systems. 

§ 6. Robert Southey (1774-1843) was born on August 12, 1774, ^* 
Bristol, where his father carried on the business of a draper, but most 
of his early childhood was spent with his mother's family. While 
living with his aunt. Miss Tyler, he made the acc[uaintance of every 
actor of merit who came to Bristol or Bath, and he became fixed in his 



428 ROBERT SOUTHEY. [Chap. XXII. 

aunt's persuasion that there was only one thing grander than being a 
great tragic actor — and that was, to be a great author of tragedies. 
He was sent to Westminster at the age of fourteen, but he had had no 
proper classical training previously, and the defect was never repaired. 
After spending four years at Westminster he was expelled for writing 
an article against flogging in public schools, which appeared in the 
Flagellant, a periodical commenced by Southey and his friend and 
schoolfellow, Grosvenor Bedford. The following year he went to 
Oxford, and was entered at Balliol. At the University he made one or 
two fitful efforts to read Tacitus and Homer, but speedily relinquished 
the attempt. His hope of being able to assist his family chiefly de- 
pended upon his taking Orders, but his religious opinions prevented 
him from entering the Church. He lingered at Oxford, undecided 
what to do, until Coleridge appeared with his scheme of " Pantisocracy," 
already related. Quitting Oxford, Southey attempted to raise by 
authorship funds for the American scheme, and in 1794 published at 
Bath, in conjunction with Robert Lovell, a small volume of poems, 
which brought neither fame nor profit. His chief reliance, however, 
was on his epic poem Joa?! of Arc, which had been composed in six 
weeks in 1793. He had the good fortune to meet with a bookseller as 
inexperienced and as ardent as himself. This was Joseph Cottle of 
Bristol, the patron of Coleridge, who offered fifty guineas for the copy- 
right. The work required much correction, and in the mean time, in 
order to defray the immediate expenses of subsistence, Southey gave 
lectures on History at Bristol. At this time he was often unable to pay 
for a dinner, and in 1795 he was compelled by want to return to his 
mother's house. In November of the same year Southey accompanied 
his uncle to Lisbon. On the morning of his departure he secretly 
united himself to Miss Fricker, a young lady to whom he had for some 
time been engaged, thus frustrating one portion of his uncle's inten- 
tions in taking him out, which had been to break off" an apparently 
hopeless engagement. After an absence of six months Southey re- 
turned, and immediately commenced that life of patient literary toil 
from which he never swerved again while health and intellect remained. 
He had from the outset an allowance of 160/. a year, from his friend 
Mr. Wynn, till he had obtained for him a pension of equal value from 
the Government. Yet, with his talents and industry, he was constantlj' 
on the verge of povertj^, and not even his philosophy and hopefulness 
were always proof against the difficulties of his position. In 1804 he 
took up his residence at Greta Hall, near Keswick, in Cumberland, 
where he continued to reside for the remainder of his life. From being 
a sceptic and a republican, he became a firm believer in Christianity, 
and a stanch supporter of the English Church and Constitution; and 
many of his works and essays in the Quarterly Rcvietv were written 
in defence of the doctrines and discipline of the Church. In 1813 he 
was appointed Poet-Laureate, and in 1835 received a pension of 300/. a 
year from the Government of Sir Robert Peel. During the last four 
years of his life, he had sunk into a state of hopeless imbecility. Ho 
^it^d March 21, 1843. 



A. D. 1774-1843.] JOAN OF ARC. TITALABA. 429 

§ 7. Southey's literary activity was prodigioirs. The list of his 
writings, published under his own name, amounts to one Jumdred and 
nine volumes. In addition to these he contributed to the Annual Re- 
view fifty-two articles, to the Foreign Quarterly three, to the Quarterly 
ninetj^-four. The composition of these works was a small part of the 
labor they involved : they are all, even to his poems, books of research, 
which obliged him to turn over numerous volumes for the production 
of one. 

Joan of Arc ^ the earliest of his long poems, was a juvenile produc- 
tion published in 1795. It was received with favor by most of the criti- 
cal journals on account of the republican doctrines which it espoused. 
The critics praised the poetry for the sake of the principles, and the 
public, who rejected the principles, accepted the verdict. Madoc, which 
was completed in 1799, was not given to the world till 1805. Upon this 
poem he was contented to rest his fame. It is founded on one of the 
most absurd legends connected with the early history of America. 
Madoc is a Welsh prince of the twelfth century, who is represented as 
making the discovery of the Western world; and his contests with the 
Mexicans, and ultimate conversion of that people from their cruel 
idolatry, form the main action of the poem, which, like yoan of Arc, 
is written in blank verse. The poet thus had at his disposal the rich 
store of picturesque scenery, manners, and wonderful adventure to be 
found in the Spanish narratives of the exploits of Columbus, Pizarro, 
Cortes, and the Conquestadors. But the victories which are so won- 
derful, when related as gained over the Mexicans by the comparatively 
well-armed Spaniards of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, are per- 
fectly incredible when attributed to a band of savages little superior in 
civilization and the art of war to the people they invaded. Though 
the poem is crowded with scenes of more than possible splendor — of 
more than human cruelty, courage, and superstition — the effect is 
singularly languid ; and the exaggeration of prowess and suffering 
produces the same effect upon the mind as the extravagance of fiction 
in the two Oriental poems which we shall next notice. 

Thalaha ViZ.?> published in 1801, and the Curse of Kehama in 1810. 
Both these poems are, in their subjects, wild, extravagant, unearthly, 
full of supernatural machinery, but of a kind as difficult to manage 
with effect as at first sight splendid and attractive. Thalaba is a tale 
of Arabian enchantment, full of magicians, dragons, hippogriffs, and 
monsters. In Kehama the poet has selected for his groundwork the 
still more unmanageable mythology of the Hindoos — a vast, inco- 
herent, and clumsy structure of superstition, more hopelessly unadapted 
to the purposes of poetry than even the Fetishism of the savages of 
Africa. The poems are written in an irregular and wandering species 
of rhythm — the Thalaba altogether without rhyme ; and the language 
abounds in an affected simplicity and perpetual obtrusion of vulgar 
and puerile phraseology. The works have a most painful air of laxity, 
and a want of intellectual bone and muscle. There are many passages 
of gorgeous description, and many proofs of powerful fancy and 



430 ROBERT SOUTUEY. [Chap. XXII. 

imagination; but the persons and adventures are so supernatural, so 
completely out of the circle of human sympathies, both in their tri- 
umphs and suflerings, and they are so scrupulously divested of all the 
passions and circumstances of humanity, that these gorgeous and 
ambitious works produce on us the impression of a splendid but unsub- 
stantial nightmare: they are the vast disjointed visions of fever and 
delirium. In Thalaba we have a series of adventures, encovmtered by 
an Arabian hero who fights with demons and enchanters, and finally 
overthrows the dominion of the powers of evil in the Domdaniel cav- 
erns, "under the roots of the ocean." It is more extravagant than 
anything in the " Thousand and One Nights : " indeed it is nothing 
but a quintessence of all the puerile and monstrous fictions of Arabian 
fancy. In the Oriental legends these extravagances are pardonable, 
and even characteristic; for in them we take into account the childish 
and wonder-loving character of the audience to which such fantastic 
inventions were addressed, and we remember that they are scattered, 
in the books of the East, over a much greater surface, so to speak, 
whereas here we have them all consolidated into one mass of incohe- 
rent monstrosity. We miss, too, the exquisite glimpses afforded us by 
those tales of the common and domestic life of the East. These poems, 
like everything of Southey's, exhibit an incredible amount of multifa- 
rious learning; but it is learning generally rather curious than valua- 
ble, and it is not vivified by any truly genial, harmonizing power of 
originality. 

In the volume of metrical tales, which appeared in the interval be- 
tween the publication of these poems, as in general in his minor poems, 
Southey exhibits a degree of vigor and originality of thought for which 
we look in vain in his longer works. Some of his legends, translated 
from the Spanish and Portuguese (in which languages Southey was a 
proficient), or from the obscurer stores of the Latin chronicles of the 
Middle Ages, or the monkish legends of the saints, are very vigorous 
and characteristically written. The author's spirit was strongly legen- 
dary ; and he has caught the true accent, not of heroic and chivalric 
tradition, but of the religious enthusiasm of monastic times. Some 
of his minor original poems have great tenderness and simple dignity 
of thought, though often injured by a studied meanness and creeping- 
ness of expression ; for the fatal error of the school to which he be- 
longed was, as we have already shown, a theory that the real every-day 
phraseology of the common people was better adapted to the purposes 
3f poetry than the language of cultivated and educated men. 

Kehama was followed, at an interval of four years, by Roderick, the 
Last of the Goths., a poem in blank verse, and of a much more modest 
and credible character than its predecessors. The subject is the pun- 
ishment and repentance of the last Gothic King of Spain, whose vices, 
oppressions, and in particular an insult offered to the virtue of Florinda, 
daughter of Count Julian, incited that noble to betray his country to 
the Moors. The general insurrection of the Spaniards against their 
Moslem oppressors, the exploits of the illustrious Pelayo, and the 



A. D. 1774-1843.] ROBERT SOUTHEY. 431 

reappearance of Roderick at the great battle which put an end to the 
infidel dominion, form the materials of the action. The King, in the 
disguise of a hermit, figures in most of the scenes ; and his agonizing 
repentance for his past crimes, and humble trust in the mercy of God, 
are the key-note or prevailing tone of the work. Though free from 
the injudicious employment of supernatural machinery, and though 
containing some descriptions of undeniable merit, and several scenes 
of powerful tenderness and pathos, there is the same want of reality 
and human* interest which characterizes his other poems. 

The tone of Southey's poems in general is too uniformly ecstatic and 
agonizing. His personages, like his scenes, have something unreal, 
phantom-like, dreamy : they are often beautiful, but it is the beauty 
not of the earth, or even of the clouds, but of the mirage and the 
Fata Morgana. His robe of inspiration sits gracefully and majestically 
upon him, but it is too voluminous in its folds, and too heavy in its 
gorgaous texture, for the motion of real existence : he is never " suc- 
cinct for speed," and his flowing draperj' obstructs and embarrasses 
his steps. He has/ow^/', but not _/b;'c<7: his genius is rather passive 
than active. 

On being appointed poet-laureate, Southey paid his tribute of Court 
adulation with an eagerness and regularity which showed how complete 
was his conversion from the political faith of his youthful days. A 
convert is generally a fanatic ; and Southey's laureate odes exhibit a 
fierce, passionate, controversial hatred of his former liberal opinions 
which gives interest even to the ambitious monotony, the convulsive 
mediocrity, of his official lyrics. In one of them, the Vision of Judg- 
ment, he has essayed to revive the hexameter in English verse. This 
experiment, tried in so many languages, and with such indifferent suc- 
cess, had been attempted by Gabriel Harv^ey in the reign of Elizabeth ; 
and the universal ridicule which hailed Southey's attempt was excited 
quite as much by the absurdity of the metre as by the extravagant flat- 
tery of the poem itself. The deification, or rather beatification, of 
George III. drew from Byron some of the severest strokes of his irre- 
sistible ridicule, and gave him the opportunity of severely revenging 
upon Southey some of the attacks of the laureate upon his principles 
and poetry. 

§ 8. Southey's prose works are very numerous, and valuable on 
account of their learning; but the little Life of Nelson, written to 
furnish young seamen with a simple narrative of the exploits of Eng- 
land's greatest naval hero, has perhaps never been equalled for the 
perfection of its style. In his other works — the principal of which 
are The Book of the Church, The Lives of the British Admirah, The 

Life of Wesley, a History of Brazil, and of the Peninsular Wat we 

find the same admirable art of clear, vigorous English, and no less 
that strong prejudice, violent political and literary partiality, and a lone 
of haughty, acrimonious, arrogant self-confidence, which so much 
detract from his many excellent qualities as a writer and as a man, his 
sincerity, his learning, his conscientiousness, and his natural benevo- 
lence of character. 



4d% 



NOTES AJ^D ILLUSTRATIONS. [Chap. XXII. 



NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 



OTIIER POETS OF TIIE NINETEENTH 
CENTURY. 

Samuel Rogees (1763-1855) ras bom at New- 
Ington Green, a suburb of Loi ion. After a care- 
ful private education he was placed, while yet a lad, 
in his father's banking-house to learn the business, 
in which he afterwards became a nominal partner. 
In the enjoyment of large wealth and ample leisure, 
he devoted himself to literature and to the cultiva- 
tion of the society of men distinguished in politics, 
literature, and art. His chief works are the Pleas- 
ures of Memorji, published in 1792 ; Human Life, in 
1819; and Italy, in 1822. His poetry is highly 
finished, but not characterized by much power or 
imagination. 

Rev. William Lisle Bowtjis (1762-1850) was 
born at King's Sutton, on the borders of Northamp- 
tonshire. He was educated at Westminster School 
and Trinity College, Oxford. In 1805 he obtained 
the valuable living of Bremliill, in Wiltshire. He 
occupies an important place in the history of Eng- 
lish literature, from the great influence which his 
poetry appears to have exercised over the produc- 
tions of Coleridge, Wordsworth, and Southey. His 
Sonnets, his Missionary of the Andes, and his Vil- 
lage Verse Book, are among the best of his 
■works. 

Rev. Chaeles Wolfe (1791-1823) was bom in 
Ireland. He is chiefly known as the author of the 
celebrated lines on the death of Sir John Moore, 
published in 1817. His literary compositions were 
collected and published in 1825. 

Bernaud Bakton (1784-1849) was a member of 
the Society of Friends, and the amount of attention 
which he attracted is perhaps mainly owing to the 
then unusual phenomenon wliieh he presented of a 
Quaker poet — the title, indeed, by which he came 
to be commonly known. He published a volume 
of Metrical Effusions in 1812; Xajioleon and other 
J'oans, 1822 ; Poetic Vigils, 1824 ; Devotional Verses, 
182G. Numerous other pieces appeared separately 
and in magazines. 

James Montgomery (1771-1854), educated by 
the Moravians at Fulneck, near Leeds, wrote many 
poems while yet a boy, but first attracted public 
attention by The Wanderer in Switserland, pub- 
lished in 1806, which, though not exhibiting much 
power, is written in very melodious verse. His 
subsequent poems were The West Indies (1809), The 
World before the Flood (1812), (h-eenland (1810), 
and The Pelican Island and other Poems (1827). 

James Smith (1775-1839), known best in con- 
nection with his brother Horace, wrote clever paro- 
dies and criticisms in the Picnic, the London 
Jieview, and the Monthly Mirror. In the last ap- 
peared those imitations, from his own and brother's 
hand, which were published in 1813 as The Rejected 
Addresses ; one of the most successful and popular 
works that has ever appeaix-d. Jouies wTote the 



imitations of Wordsworth, Cobbctt, Southey, Coler- 
idge, and Crabbe ; Horace, those of Scott, Moore, 
Monk Lewis, Fitzgerald, and Dr. Johnson. 

James did little more in the way of literature, ex- 
cept an occasional piece in some of the montlilies. 
Lady Blessiugton said, " If J%mes Smith had not 
been a wealthy man, he would have been a great 
man." He died on Christmas Eve, 1839, in his 65th 
year. 

Horace Smith (1779-1849) was a more volumi- 
nous writer than his brother. He was the author of 
several novels and verses. Brambletye House, 1826, 
was in imitation of Scott's historical novels. Besides 
this he wrote Tor Hill, Walter Colyton, The 
Moneyed Man, The Merchant, and several others. 
His best performance is the Address to the Mummy, 
some parts of which exhibit the finest sensibility 
and an exquisite poetic taste. 

Felicia Dorotoea Hemans (1793-1835), whose 
maiden name was Browne, was a native of Liver- 
pool, and spent the early part of her life in North 
Wales, not far from Abergele. She was not more 
than fifteen years of age when her first work was 
published. In 1812 appeared the Domestic Affec- 
tions and other poems ; and in the same year Miss 
Bro%mc was married to Captain Hemans. She was 
fortunate in her competition for prizes, gaining that 
for the best poem on Wallace in 1819 ; and two years 
afterwards she won a prize for a poem on Dartmoor, 
Her dramatic attempt, the Vei^pers of Palermo, 1823, 
was not successful. Other works quickly followed : 
The Forest Sanctuary, 1826; Records of Womeri, 
1828; Lays, Lyrics, &c.. Songs of the Affections, 
1830. Mrs. Hemans for the latter portion of her life 
resided at Dublin with her brother, and whilst there 
published in 1834 her Hymns for Childhood, and 
Scenes and Hymns of Life, with a few sonnets enti- 
tled Thoughts during Sickness. 'Mis. Hemans's writ- 
ings are extensively read. Her subjects are those 
which find a ready admission to the hearts of all 
classes. The style is graceful, but presenting, as 
Scott said, " too many flowers for the fruit." There 
is little intellectual or emotional force about her 
poetry, and the majority of it will soon be forgotten, 
A few of the smaller pieces will perhaps remain as 
English gems, such as The Grai^es of a Household, 
and the Homes of England. 

Rev. William Herbert (1778-1847), at first a 
lawyer, then Member of Parliament, finally entered 
the Church, and died Dean of Manchester. He is 
the author of several translations from the Norse, 
Italian, Spanish, and Portuguese — the original 
poems, Helga, 1815, and Attila, 1838— besides tales, 
sermons, and scientific treatises. 

Thomas Hatneb Bayly (1797-1839), a celebrated 
song-writer. The best known are The Soldier's 
Tear, She wore a Wreath of Roses, Id be a Butter- 
fly, O, no, we never mention her, and We met — 
'twas in a Croiod. 

FiiANCis W^rangham (1760-1843), Archdeacon 



Chap. XXII.] NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 



433 



of Chester, was author of translations from the clas- 
sical poets, and other poetic and prose writings. 

Heney Feancis Caky (1772-1844), published in 
1804 a translation of Dante's Inferno, and ten years 
later a translation of thei?ii't«a CommedicL, in blank 
verse, &c. 

WiLLLVM Stewart Rose (1775-1843) was also 
celebrated as a translator. His chief works were 
Amadis de Gaul, 1803, and the well-known transla- 
tion of the Orlando Furioso of Ariosto, published 
in 1831. 

William Taylob (1765-1836), of Norwich, 
translated some of the works of Goethe, Schiller, and 
]L,essing, and gave a great impulse to the study of 
German literature in England. 

J.\3IES Gbahame (1765-1811), a native of Glas- 
gow, at first a barrister, then entered the English 
Church, where he became a well-known preaclier. 
In 1801 he published Mary Queen of Scotlaiid, a 
dramati'i poem. This was followed by the Sabbath, 
Sabbath Walks, and other poems of a religious 
character. Grahanie is not an easy, graceful poet ; 
and though his verse is full of tender and devout 
feeling, it has little vigor or imagination. He has 
been compared to Cowpcr, but wants that poet's 
humor, force, and depth of poetic passion. 

William Sotueby (1757-1833), bom in London 
ancl educated at Harrow, was for some time in the 
army ; but retired about 1780, and devoted himself 
to literature. He was a man of great learning, and 
translated some classical works with much elegance 
and skill. His chief works were. Poetical Descrip- 
tion of Wales, 1789 ; Translation of VirgiVs Oeorgics, 
1800; Constance de Castille, 1810, written after the 
Btj'lc of Scott's romantic poems ; translations of The 
Iliad, 1831; and The Odyssey, 1832. His transla- 
tion from Wieland's Oberon has received great 
commendation. 

JOIDJ HOOKHAM Feeke (1769-1846), a friend of 
Canning, whom he assisted in the paper called ITie 
Anti-Jacobin ; was Charge d' Affaires in Spain with 
General Moore, and afterwards Resident at Malta, 
where he died, aged seventy-seven. He was the 
author of the once celebrated satiric poem, pub- 
lished in 1817, entitled Prospectus and Specimen of 
an intended National Work by William and Robert 
Whistlecraft, &c. It was written in ottava rima, 
and was a clever burlesque of romantic writings, 
with here and there a touch of real poetry. It was 
the model on which Byron wrote his Beppo. He 
was also the author of the War Song of Brunncn- 
burg, published by Ellis as a fourteenth century 
production, but really written by the author when 
at school at Eton during the great discussion on the 
Rowley poems by Chattcrton. Frere also made an 
admirable translation into English verse of the 
Achamians, KnighVi, Birds, and Frogs of Aristoph- 
anes, which was printed at Malta. 

Db. Reginald Hebee (1783-1826) was born at 
Malpas, Cheshire, educated at Brasenose College, 
Oxford, and successively Vicar of Hodnet and 
Bishop of Calcutta. He died at Trichinopoly, 
April, 3, 1826. He was author of the Bampton 
Lectures, 1815 ; Life of Jeremy Taylor, 1822 ; mis- 
cellaneous prose writings ; and many poems, chiefly 
religious, of great beauty and feeling. 

ROBEET Pollok (1799-1827), the author of a 
k^ag poem in blank verse, called the Course of 

37 



Time ; a work of real value. A few passages ha\'0 
quite a Miltonic ring. The poem is a sketch of the 
life and end of man. The sentiments are Cahiii- 
istic. The tone and coloring are often too sombre. 
Sometimes the style becomes rather inflated. Rob- 
ert Pollok was a native of Muirhouse, Renfrewshire, 
studied at Glasgow, and became a minister in the 
United Secession Church. He also wrote Tales of 
the Covenanters, in prose. 

Robeet Bloomfield (1766-1823), the son of a 
tailor at Honington, near Bury St. Edmund's, 
worked as a shoemaker in London, where he com- 
posed his poetry, which was rejected by London 
booksellers, but published at Bury, at the expense 
of Capel Lofift, Esq. He was patronized by the 
Duke of Grafton, and obtained a situation in tlic 
Seal Office. He died on the 19th of August, 1823, at 
Shefford, Bedfordshire. The chief poems arc The 
Farmer's Boy (1798), Rural Tales (1810), Wild 
Flowers, &c. His style is descriptive. The rhj'thui 
is correct, and the language choice, but the gentle 
flow seldom bursts into the rush of passion. Ho 
never sinks, and never soars. 

John Leyden (1775-1811), a native of Scotland, 
wrote a few poems and miscellaneous prose articles 
in the Edinburgh Magazine, entered the Church 
(1798), but afterwards became a surgeon in the East 
India Company's service (1802). In India he de- 
voted himself to the study of the Oriental languages. 
He accompanied Lord Minto in the expedition 
against Java, where he died in 1811. His Poetical 
Remains were published in 1819, by Rev. James 
Morton. Sir Walter Scott has spoken in high terms 
of his poetry. 

TUOMAS NOON Talfourd (1795-1854) was bom 
at Reading, rose to distinction at the bar, and was 
made a judge in 1849. He died on the bench whilst 
addressing the Grand Jury at Stafford in 1854. He 
wrote the tragedies of /oh. The Athenian Captive, 
The Massacre of Glencoe, and The Castilian; and 
in prose. Vacation Rambles (1851), Life of C/iarlcs 
Lamb, and an Essay on the Greek Drama. He is 
best known by the tragedy of Ion, perhaps one of 
the most striking additions to tragic literature in 
modern times. 

WiXTiiEOP Mackwoeth Pe.ved (1802-1839), 
son of Mr. Serjeant Praed, entered tlie House of 
Commons, and became Secretary of the Board of 
Control. His early life and writings gave promiso 
of future eminence. While at Eton he started The 
Etonian, and was one of the chief contributors to 
Knight's Quarterly Magazine. His poems, which 
have been recently published in a collected form, 
are some of the most remarkable which have 
appeared in modem times. 

Haetley Coleeiuge (1796-1819) and Saea 
COLEEmGE (1803-1852) were the children of the 
great Samuel Taylor Coleridge, and themselves 
well knoWTi in the world of letters. The brother 
was author of Poems, Essays, Lives of the Northern 
Worthies, and other miscellaneous works. His 
poems were published, with a Memoir of his life, in 
1851. The sister married in 1829 her cousin Henry 
Nelson Coleridge. The dissertations which she 
appended to many of her father's works, published 
after his death, are remarkable both for power of 
thought and of expression. 

Mss. SouTHEY [Cakoijne Anne Bow^.es] 



434 



NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS, [Chap. XXIL 



(1787-1854) was bom at Lyinington, Hanta. Her 
early life was spent in retirement and literary pur- 
suits. Several poems were published by her of 
much taste and sentiment. She was married to 
Southey on the 5th June, 1839. She completed tlie 
poem liobin Hood, commenced by Southey. Iler 
best known piece is the little lyric called The Fau- 
pcr's Death-bed. 

Ebenezee Elliott (1781-1849), the son of an 
iroufounder of Masborough, Yorkshire, worked 
himself at liis father's business. In 1823 he pub- 
lished some poems; but is best known for the Com 
Law Jihumes, which appeared between 1830-36. 
His affection and advocacy of the working classes 
endeared his name to them ; whilst his genius and 
pure poetic fervor, though sometimes leading him 
beyond the limits of good taste, claimed the recog- 
nition of Southey, Bulwer, and Wilson. 

EoBEKT Montgomery (1808-185.5), a popular 
preacher at Percy Chapel, Charlotte Street, Bedford 
Square. His poems passed through numerous edi- 
tions ; but they are stilted and unnatural in expres- 
sion. Their religious subjects, and the clever 
puffing which they received, contributed to their 
success. The chief of them were the Omvipresence 
of the Deity, Satan, Luther, diessiah, and Oxford. 
He is perhaps best known by the scathing criticism 
which he received in the celebrated essay by Ma- 
caul ay. 

Letitia Elizabeth Landon (1802-1838), best 
known by her initials L. E. L., under which her 
poems appeared in various periodicals, which have 
been collected and published separately. She was 
the daughter of an army agent, born at Chelsea, and 
married in 1838 Mr. Maclean, governor of the Gold 
Coast Colony, West Africa, where she died, Octo- 
ber 15, 1839. 

Rev. George Croly (1780-1863), a native of 
Dublin, and rector of St. Stephen's, Walbrook, Lon- 
don. His style was gorgeous and his imagination 
fertile. He was the author of several works in poetry 
and prose. Pari.-? in 1815, Angel of the World (1820), 
Fride shall have a Fall, Catiline, The Modern Or- 
lando (184G), are his chief poems. In fiction he 
produced Salathiel, Tales of the Great St. Bernard, 
and Jfarston ; the first of which is a romance of 
great power and eloquence. 

Mrs. Mary Tigiie (1773-1810), a native of Wick- 
low County, Ireland, the authoress of Psyche, a 
poem founded on the story of Cupid and Psyche in 
Apuleius, and exhibiting much imagiaation and 
giaeeful fancy. 

James Sueridan Knowles (1794-1862), one of 
the principal modern tragic writers, was bom at 
Cork in 1794. He went on the stage, and there dis- 
tinguished himself as an actor and writer of plays. 
He afterwards retired from the stage, and occupied 
himself with teaching elocution, and sometimes 
preaching in the chapels of the Christian body to 
which he belonged. Cains Gracchus was performed 
in 1815; and was followed by J7r(;tniws, one of the 
most poi)ular dramas that has appeared in recent 
times upon the English stage. The Hunchback 
and William Tell are perhaps his two best works. 
Two novels were written by him, George Lovell and 
Henry Fortescue. His plots are natural, and the 
characters well sustained. 

jAiiES Hogg (1770-1835), known better as the 



"Ettrick Shepherd," a native of Ettrick Vale, Sel- 
kirkshire. His Echool was the mountain's side, 
where he kept the cattle and sheep. His education 
was scanty ; but a quick and retentive memory, 
great natural gifts, and a fine appreciation of the 
wondrous scenes around him, caDcd up the slura- 
bering muse, and in 1801 he published a small vol- 
ume of Bongs. The Mountain Bard followed ia 
1807. Soon afterwards he left his occupation and 
resided at Edinburgh, supporting himself entirely 
by his pen. The Queen's Wake (1313) brought him 
into very favorable notice. It was followed by 
JUador of the Moor, Winter Evening Tales, &c. 
Hogg's chief delight was in legendary tales and 
folk lore. Fancy rather than the description of life 
and manners is the prevailing character of the poet'a 
writings. A modem critic says, " He wanted art to 
constmct a fable, and taste to give due effect to hia 
imagery and conceptions. But there arc few poets 
who impress us so much with the idea of direct in- 
spiration, and that poetry is indeed an art ' unteach- 
able and untaught.' " 

MORE MODERN POETS. 

The poets of the latter part of the nineteenth cen- 
tury have been very numerous ; but there are only 
four who stand out in any prominence worthy of 
comparison with that illustrious band which adorned 
the early years of the century. These are ALFRED 
T£]siNYSo», Robert BROWiaNG, Mrs. Brown- 
ing, and Thomas Hood. The two former are 
excluded from the scope of this work. The other 
two must not be passed by without a short notice. 

TnOMAS Hood (1799-1845) has, unfortunately, 
been regarded only as a humorist; and as the Eng- 
lish reader would accept from him nothing but wit 
and humor, the most valuable of his writings aro 
in danger of being forg(}tten. He was bora on the 
2;3d of May, 1799 ; and in 1821 he became sub-editor 
of the London Magazine, where his poem on Hope 
appeared. He was assoiuatcd with the brilliant 
circle who then contributed to the Magazine ; among 
whom were Lamb, Hazlitt, the Smiths, De Qirincey, 
and Re3'nolds. The latter of these was imited with 
Hood in the publication of the Odes and Addresses, 
which appeared anonymously, and were ascribed 
by Coleridge to Lamb. These were followed by 
Whims and Oddities. Hood became at once a 
popular writer; but in the midst of his success a 
firm failed which involved him in its losses. The 
poet, disdaining to seek the aid of bankmptcy, 
emulated the example of Scott, and determined by 
the economy of a life in Germany to pay off the debt 
which he had thus involuntarily contracted. In 
1835 the family took up their residence in Coblenz ; 
from thence removed to Ostend (1837) ; and returned 
to London in 1840. He subsequently became editor 
of the New Monthly in 1841, and held it until 1843, 
when the first number of his owa Magazine was 
issued. A pension was obtained for him, with re- 
version to his wife and daughter, in 1844 ; and he 
died upon the 3d of May in the following year. 

Hood stands very high among the poets of the 
second order. He was not a creative genius. He 
has given little indication of the highest imagina- 
tive faculty; but his fancy was most delicate and 
full of graceful play. His appreciation of the beau- 



CHAP.XXn.] NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS, 



435 



ties of nature was very vivid ; and some of his de- 
scriptions are models of their class. His most 
distinctive mark was the thorough humanity of his 
thoughts and expressions, nis poems are amongst 
the most valuable contributions to English litera- 
ture of sympathy with, and insight into, human life 
and character. Every reader is struck by the sad- 
ness and melaaicholy always present in his works. 
The author of the Comic Annuals can scarcely be 
conceived of as writing such a poem as the Bridge 
of Sighs. Yet it is true that humor is generally 
united with sadness. It has been well said by Hood 
himself, that 

" There's not a string attuned to mirth, 
But has its chord in melancholy." 

Hood was without a doubt the greatest humorist and 
wit of his age. He possessed in a most remarkable 
degree the power of perceiving the ridiculous and 
the odd. Words seemed to break up into the most 
queer and droll syllables. His wit was caustic, and 
yet it bore with itself its remedy. It was never 
coarse. An impurity even in suggestion cannot be 
found in Hood's pages. With the humor was asso- 
ciated a most tender pathos. The Death-bed is one 
of the most affecting little poems in our language, 
and is equalled only by another of his ballads enti- 
tled Love's Eclipse. The deep melancholy that 
colors " I remember " is carried almost too far. The 
last verse of that little poem seems to contain the 
sorrows of a whole life. Amongst his larger works, 
the Pica of the Midsummer Fairies, and Hero and 
Leander, are the most sustained and elaborate. 
The descriptive pieces in both are full of the most 
careful observation of nature, and most musical 
expression of her beauties. The best known of his 
poems are Tlie Bridge of Sighs, Eugene Aram, and 
the Song of the Shirt. 

EuzAUETH Bakbett Bbowntng (d. 1861), wife 
of Robert Browning, himself an eminent poet, was 
a native of London, and contributed in very early 
life to some of the leading periodicals. Her first 
acknowledged work was Prometheus Bound, a 
translation from the great Greek dramatist, 1833. 
In 1844 her poems were published in two volumes. 
After her marriage with Robert Browning, her ftiil- 
ing health compelled them to reside in Italy, and 
they took up their residence first in Pisa, and after- 
wards in Florence. Here she sympathized warmly 
with the cause of her adopted and suffering nation. 
Her poem of Casa Ouidi Windows appeared in 1851, 
where the Italian revolutions of 1848 and 1849 kin- 
ilcd her indignation at foreign oppression, and her 



longings for Italian liberty. Her greatest poem, 
Aurora Leigh, was published in 185G; and her 
Poems before Congres^s and Later Poems were not 
given to the public till shortly before her death, 
which took place at the Casa Guidi, Florence, 
June 29, 1861. 

Mrs. Browning stands very high in the rank of 
English poets. The creative or imogiDative faculty 
she possessed in the highest degree. Her Satan in 
the Drama of Exile is one of the finest creations in 
the whole range of our literature. So intense, how- 
ever, was the subjective in this poetess, that all her 
writings are tinged by herself. We can see tho 
woman of deep emotion, of high-toned thought, of 
devout spirit, with soul strong enough to have filled 
the body of a Joan of Arc, shut in her darkened 
chamber, reading " almost every book worth read- 
ing in almost every language," mingling with a few 
friends, the smallness of which circle prevented a 
loss of emotional force by too great expanse, her 
heart going forth in sympathy with the wretched 
and down-trodden, and at last finding a man and 
poet worthy of her best affection ; and then, gather- 
ing up her strength, she seems to fling her own soul 
into her verse, now with all the passion which 
gleams through " Aurora Leigh," and now in tho 
tenderer sonnets so full of pathos and love. It is 
not to |ie wondered at therefore that some of her 
writing has been called spasmodic. Mrs. Browning 
has not the calm, unfailing flow of thought and feel- 
ing which we find in her only modem superior, the 
Laxu-eate. But the woman rises to heights on which 
the man has never stood, and finds deeps which ho 
has never fathomed. Her style is therefore often 
rugged, imfinished, and at times utterly without 
rhythm. Some portions of Aurora Leigh might bo 
written as prose as well as poetry. 

The sadness which pervades all the writing of 
Mrs. Browning is what might be well expected from 
such a life as hers. Her ill health, the sudden loss 
of her younger brother, the long-continued confine- 
ment in that chamber where no sunbeam ever 
cheered, must all have deepened the sorrow in which 
she ever dwelt. Her verse is therefore but rarely 
sportive. She deals sometimes in satire, but satire is 
always sad. Her own idea of the poet's work seems 
to bear this view. " Poetry has been as serious a 
thing to me as life itself; and life has been a very 
serious thing. I never mistook pleasure for the 
final cause of poetry, nor leisure for the hour of the 
poet." From such a view of poetry and life, we 
cannot wonder at the moral purpose, the soiU vl ich 
ia found in all her writing. 



436 THE MODERN NO VELISTS. [Chap. XXIIL 

CHAPTER XXIII. 

THE MODERN NOVELISTS. 

\ 1. Classification of Romances and Novels. § 2. I. Romances, Horace Wal- 
POLE. § 3. Mrs. Radcliffe. § 4. Lewis, Matijrin, and Mrs. Shelley. 
§ 5. James. § 6. II. Novels of real life and society. Miss Btjrney. $ 7. 
Mrs. Charlotte Smith, Mrs. Inchbald, and Mrs. Opie. § 8. Godwin. 
§ 9. William Makepeace Thackeray. His life and writings. § 10. Criti- 
cism of his works. § 11. Miss Edgeworth. § 12. Local Novels. Galt, 
Professor "Wilson, Lady Morgan, &c. § 13. Fashionable Novels. Lis- 
ter, Ward, and Lady Blessington. § 14. Miss Austen. Theodora 
Hook. Mrs. Trollope. Miss Mitford. § 15. III. Oriental Novels. 
Beckford, Hope, and Morier. § 16. IV. Naval and Military Novels. 
Captain Marryat, &c. 

§ 1. The department of English literature which has been cultivated 
during the later half of the last and the commenement of the present 
century with the greatest assiduity and success is undoubtedly that of 
prose fiction — the romance and the novel. 

This branch of our subject is so extensive, and it embraces such a 
multitude of works and names, that the only feasible method of treat- 
ing it so as to give an idea of its immense riches and fertility will be 
to classify the authors and their productions into a few great general 
species : and though there are some names which may appear to belong 
to several of these subdivisidYis, our plan will be found, we trust, to 
secure clearness and aid the memory. The divisions which we propose 
are as follows : I. Romances properly so called ; t. e. works of narrative 
fiction, embodying periods of ancient or middle-age history, the adven- 
tures of which are generally of a picturesque and romantic character, 
and the personages (whether taken from history, or invented so as 
to accord with the time and character of the action) of a lofty and 
imposing kind. II. The vast class of pictures of society, whether in- 
vented or not. These are generally novels, /. e. tales of private life, 
though some, as those of Godwin, maybe highly imaginative, and even 
tragic. This class contains a great treasury of what may be called 
pictures of local manners, as of Scottish and Irish life. III. Oriental 
novels — a branch almost peculiar to English fiction; and originating 
partly in the acquaintance with the East derived by Great Britain from 
her gigantic Oriental empire, and partly from the Englishman's restless, 
inappeasable passion for travelling. IV. Naval and nfilitary novels ; 
giving pictures of striking adventure, and containing records of Eng- 
land's innumerable triumphs, by sea and land, together with sketches 
of the manners, habits, and feelings of our soldiers and sailors. 

§ 2. I. Romances. — The history of modern prose fiction in England 
will be found to accord pretty closely with the classification we have 



A. D. 1717-1797.] HORACE WALPOLE. 437 

just adopted. We have spoken in another place of the three patriatchs of 
the English novel — Richardson, Fielding, and Smollett; and the im- 
mense class of works we are about to consider may be looked upon as to- 
tally distinct from the immortal productions of these great men, though 
the first impulse given to prose fiction will be found to have been in no 
sense communicated by Clarissa, Tom Jones^ or Roderick Random. 
This impulse was giv'en by Horace Walpole (1717-1797), the fastidi- 
ous dilettante and brilliant chronicler of the court scandal of his day; 
a man of singularly acute penetration, of sparkling epigrammatic style, 
but of a mind devoid of enthusiasm and elevation. Rather a French 
courtier in taste and habits than an English nobleman, he retired early 
from political life, veiling a certain consciousness of political incapacity 
under an effeminate and affected contempt for a parliamentary career, 
and shut himself up in his little fantastic Gothic castle of Strawberry 
Hill, to collect armor, medals, manuscripts, and painted glass, and to 
chronicle with malicious assiduity, in his vast and brilliant correspond- 
ence, the absurdities, follies, and weaknesses of his day. The Castle of 
Otranto is a short tale, written with great rapidity and without prepara- 
tion, in which the first successful attempt was made to take the Feudal 
Age as the period, and the passion of mysterious, superstitious terror 
as the prime mover, of an interesting fiction. The supernatural 
machinery consists of a gigantic armed figure dimly seen at midnight 
in the gloomy halls and huge staircases of this feudal abode — of a 
colossal helmet which finds its way into the court-yard, filling everybody 
with dread and consternation — of a picture which descends from its 
frame to upbraid a wicked oppressor — of a vast apparition at the end — 
and a liberal allowance of secret panels, subterranean passages, breath- 
less pursuit and escape. The manners are totally absurd and unnatural, 
the heroine being one of those inconsistent portraits in which the sen- 
timental languor of the eighteenth century is superadded to the female 
character of the Middle Ages — in short, one of those incongruous con- 
tradictions which we meet in all the romantic fictions before Scott. 

§ 3. The immense success of Walpole's original and cleverly-writ- 
ten tale encouraged other and more accomplished artists to follow in 
the same track. After mentioning Clara Reeve (1725-1803), whose 
Old English Baro?i contains the same defects without the beauties of 
Walpole's haunted castle, we come to the great name of this class, Ann 
Radcliffe (1764-1823), whose numerous romances exhibit a surprising 
power (perhaps never equalled) over the emotions of fear and undefined 
mysterious suspense. Her two greatest works are. The Romance of the 
Forest, and The Mysteries of Udolpho. The scenery of her predilec- 
tion is that of Italy and the South of France; and though she does not 
place the reader among the fierce and picturesque life of the Middle 
Ages, she has, perhaps, rather gained than lost by choosing the ruined 
castles of the Pyrenees and Apennines for the theatre, and the dark 
passions of profligate Italian counts for the principal moving power, of 
her wonderful fictions. The substance of them all is pretty nearly the 
same; and the author's total incapacity to paint individual character 
37* 



438 THE MODERN NOVELISTS. [Chap. XXIIL 

only makes us the more admire the power by which she interests us 
through the never-failing medium of suspense. Mystery is the whole 
spell. Nothing can be poorer and more conventional than the person- 
ages : they are not human beings, nor even the types of classes ; they 
have no more individuality than the pieces of a chess-board ; they are 
merely counters; but the skill with which the author juggles with them 
gives them ia kind of awful necromantic interest. The characters are 
mere abstract algebraical expressions, but they are made the exponents 
of such terrible and intense fear, suffering, and suspense, that we sym- 
pathize with their fate as if they were real. Her repertory is very 
limited ; a persecuted sentimental young lady, a wicked and mysterious 
count, a haggard monk, a tattling but faithful waiting-maid, — such is 
the poor hmnan element out of which these wonderful structures are 
created. Balzac, in one of his tales, speaks with great admiration of 
an artist who, by a few touches of his pencil, could give to a most 
commonplace scene an air of overpowering horror, and throw over the 
most ordinary and prosaic objects a spectral air of crime and blood. 
Through a half-opened door you see a bed with the clothes confusedly 
heaped, as in some death-struggle, over an undefined object which 
fancy whispers must be a bleeding corpse ; on the floor you see a slipper, 
an upset candlestick, and a knife, perhaps ; and these hints tell the story 
of blood more significantly and more powerfully than the most tremen- 
dous detail, because the imagination of man is more powerful that art 

itself:-— 

" Over all there hung a cloud of fear, 

A sense of mystery the spirit daunted. 
And said, as plain as whisper to the ear, 
The place is haunted." 

The great defect of Ann Radcliffe's fictions is not their tediousness 
of description, nor even the somewhat mawkish sentimentality with 
which they may be reproached, nor the feebly-elegant verses which the 
heroines are represented as writing on all occasions (indeed all these 
things indirectly conduce to the effect by contrast and preparation) ; 
but the unfortunate principle she had imposed upon herself, of clearing 
up at the end of the story all the circumstances that appeared super- 
natural — of carrying us, as it were, behind the scenes at the end of the 
play, and showing us the dirty ropes and trap-doors, the daubed canvas, 
the Bengal fire, by which these wonderful impressions had been pro- 
duced. If we had supped after the play with the "blood-boltered 
Banquo," or the " majesty of buried Denmark," we should not probably 
be able to feel a due amount of terror the next time we saw them on 
the stage ; but in Mrs. Radcliffe, where the feeling of terror is the princi- 
pal thing aimed at, this discovery of the mechanism deprives us of all 
future interest in the story; for, after all, pure fear — sensual, not moral, 
fear — is by no means a legitimate object of high art. 

§ 4. A class of writing apparently so easy, and likelj' to produce so 
powerful and universal an effect, — an effect even more powerful on the 
least critical minds, — was, of course, followed by a crowd of writers. 



A. D. 1^75-1862.] LEWIS. MRS, SHELLEY. JAMES. 439 

Most of these have descended to oblivion and a deserved neglect. We 
may, however, saj a few words upon Lewis, Maturin, and Mrs. Shellej^ 
Matthew Gregory Lewis (1775-1818), a good-natured, efteminate 
man of fashion, the friend of Bjron, and one of the early literary 
advisers of Scott, was the first to introduce into England a taste for 
the infant German literature of that day, with its spectral ballads and 
diablerie of all kinds. He was a man of lively and childish imagina- 
tion ; and besides his metrical translations of the ballads of Btlrger, 
and others of the same class, he published in his twentieth year a prose 
romance called The Monk^ full of horrible crimes and diabolic agency. 
It contains several passages of considerable power, particularlj'^ the 
episode of The Bleeding Nun, in which the wandering Jew — that god- 
send for all writers, good, bad, and indifferent, of the " intense " or 
demoniac school — is introduced with picturesque effect; but the book 
owes its continued popularity (though, we are happy to say, only among 
half-educated young men and ecstatic milliners) chiefly to the licentious 
warmth of many of its scenes. Charles Rqbert Maturin (d. 1S24) 
was an Irish clergyman of great promise and still greater vanity, who 
carried the intellectual merits and defects of his countrymen to an 
extreme little short of caricature : his imagination was vivid, and he 
possessed a kind of extravagant and convulsive eloquence, but his 
works are full of the most outrageous absurdities. He perpetually 
mistakes monstrosity for power, and lasciviousness for warmth. His 
life was short and unhappy. He wrote several romances, the chief of 
which is Melmoik, a farrago of impossible and inconceivable adven- 
tures, without plan or coherence, in which the Devil (who is repre- 
sented as an Irish gentleman of good family in the eighteenth century) 
is the chief agent. He was likewise the author of a tragedy named 
Bertram, which was acted with success at Drury Lane in 1816. 

Mrs. Shelley (1798-1851), the wife of the poet, and the daughter 
of W. Godwin, wrote in Italy, in 1816, the powerful tale of Fra?iken- 
stein, in which a young student of physiology succeeds in constructing, 
out of the horrid remnants of the churchyard and dissecting-room, a 
kind of monster, to which he afterwards gives, apparently by the 
agency of galvanism, a kind of spectral and convulsive life. This 
existence, rendered insupportable to the monster by his vain cravings 
after human sympathy, and by his consciousness of his own deformity, 
is employed in inflicting (in some cases involuntarily) the most dread- 
ful retribution on the guilty philosopher ; and some of the chief appear- 
ances of the monster, particularly the moment when he begins to move 
for the first time, and, towards the end of the book, among the eternal 
snows of the arctic circle, are managed with a striking and breathless 
effect, that makes us for a moment forget the childish improbability 
and melodramatic extravagance of the tale. 

§ 5. To this subdivision belong the works of that most easy and 
prolific writer, G. P. R. James (1801-1862) — the most industrious, if 
not always most successful, imitator of Scott, in revival of chivalric 
and Middle- Age scenes. The number of James's works is immense, 



440 THE MODERN XO VELISTS. [Chap. XXIH. 

but they bear among themselves a family likeness so strong, and even 
oppressive, that it is impossible to consider this author otherwise than 
as an ingenious imitator and copyist — first of Scott, and secondly of 
himself. The spirit of repetition is, indeed, carried so far, that it is 
possible to guess beforehand, and with perfect certainty, the principal 
contents, and even the chief persons, of one of James's historical 
novels. His heroes and heroines, whose features are almost always 
gracefully and elegantly sketched in, have more of the English than 
continental character. We are sure to have a nondescript grotesque 
as a secondary personage — a half-crazy jester, ever hovering between 
the hare-brained villain and the faithful retainer: we may count upon 
abundance of woodland scenery (often described with singular delicacy 
and tenderness of language) and moonlight rendezvous of robbers and 
conspirators. But whereas Scott has all these things, it must be re- 
membered how much more he has beside. He looks through all things 
" with a learned spirit : " James stops short here, unless we notice his 
innumerable pictures of battles, tournaments, hunting-scenes, and old 
castles, where we find much more of the forced and artificial accuracy 
of the antiquary, than of the poet's all-embracing, all-imagining eye. 
James is particularly versed in the history of France, and some of hi^ 
most successful novels have reference to that country, among which we 
may mention Richelieu. His great deficiency is want of real, dii-ect, 
powerful human passion, and consequently of life and movement in 
his intrigues. There is thrown over his fictions a general air of good- 
natured, frank, and well-bred refinement, which, however laudable, 
cannot fail to be found rather tiresome and monotonous. 

§ 6. II. Our second subdivision — the JVovdis of real life and society — 
is so extensive that we can but throw a rapid glance on its principal 
productions. To do this consistently'- with clearness, we must begin 
rather far back, with the novels of Miss Burney. Frances Burney 
(1752-1840) was the daughter of Dr. Burney, author of the History of 
Music. While yet residing at her father's house, she composed, in her 
stolen moments of leisure, the novel o^ Evelina^ published in 1778, and 
is related not to have communicated to her father the secret of her 
having written it, until the astonishing success of the fiction rendered 
her avowal triumphant and almost necessary. Evelina was followed 
in 1782 by Cecilia, a novel of the same character. In 1786 Miss Burney 
received an appointment in the household of Queen Chai-lotte, where 
she remained till her marriage in 1793 with Count d'Arblay, a French 
refugee officer. She published, after her marriage, a novel entitled 
Camilla ; and her name has more recently come before the public by 
her Diary and Letters, which appeared in 1842, after her death. The 
chief defect of her novels is vulgarity of feeling; not that falsely-called 
vulgarity which describes with congenial animation low scenes and 
humble personages, but the affectation of delicacy' and refinement. 
The heroines are perpetually trembling at the thought of impropriety^ 
and exhibit a nervous, restless dread of appearing indelicate, that abso- 
utely renders them the very essence of vulgarity. All the difficulties 



A. D. 1752-1840.] FRANCES BURNET. 441 

and misfortunes in these plots arise from the want, on the part of the 
principal personages, of a little candor and straightforwardness, and 
would be set right by a few words of simple explanation : in this respect 
the authoress drew from herself; for her Diary exhibits her as existing 
^n a perpetual fever of vanity and petty expedients ; and in her gross 
affectation of more than feminine modesty and bashfulness — literary 
as well as personal — we see the painful, incessant flutter of her " dar- 
ling sin " — "the pride that apes humility." Women are endowed by 
nature with a peculiar delicacy of tact and sensibility; and being ex- 
cluded, by the existing laws of society, from taking an active part in 
the rougher struggles of life, they acquire much more than the other 
sex a singular penetration in judging of character from slight and ex- 
ternal peculiarities. In acquiring this power they are manifestly aided 
by their really subordinate, though apparently supreme, position in 
society, by the seductions to which they are exposed, and by the tone 
of artificial deference in which they are always addressed : men who 
appear to each other in comparatively natural colors never approach 
women (particularly unmarried women) but with a mask of chivalry 
and politeness on their faces ; and women, in their turn, soon learn to 
divine the real character under all these smooth disguisements. 

The prevailing literary form or type of the present age is undoubtedly' 
the novel — the narrative picture of manners ; just as the epic is the 
natural literary form of the heroic or traditionary period : and the 
above remarks will, we think, sufficiently explain the phenomenon of 
so many women now appearing in France, Germany, and England, as 
novel-writers. Our society is highly artificial : the broad distinctions 
and demarcations which anciently separated one class of men and one 
profession from another, have been polished away, or filled up by 
increasing refinement and the extension of personal liberty : the artisan 
and the courtier, the lawj'er and the divine, are no longer distinguished 
either by professional costume, or by any of those outward and visible 
signs which formerly stamped their manners and language, and fur- 
nished the old comic writer with strongly-marked characters ready 
made to his hand. We must now go deeper : the coat is the same 
everywhere; consequently, we must strip the man — nay, we must 
anatomize him — to show how he differs from his neighbors. To do 
this well, fineness of penetration is, above all, necessary — a quality 
which women possess in a higher degree than men. 

§ 7. Miss Burney was followed by a number of writers, chiefly women, 
among whom the names of Mrs. Charlotte Smith, Mrs. Inchbald, and 
Mrs. Opie are prominent. Their fictions, like those of Miss Edgeworth 
in more recent times, have a high and never-failing moral aim ; and 
these ladies have exhibited a power over the feelings, and an intensity 
of pathos, not much inferior to Richardson's in Clarissa Harlozve. 
But their works are very unequal, and the pathos of which we speak is 
not diffused, but concentrated into particular moments of the action, 
and is also obtained at the expense of great preparation and involution 
of circumstances ; so that to compare their genius to that of Richard- 



442 THE MODERN NO VELISTS. [Chap. XXIII. 

son, on the strength of a few powerful pictures of intense moral pathos, 
would be a gross injustice to the admirable and consummate artist in 
whose works the pathos, inimitable as it is, forms but one item in a 
long list of his excellences. 

Mrs. Charlotte Smith's (1749-1806) novels, though now forgotten, 
are praised by Sir Walter Scott, who included her in his British Novel- 
ists. Her best novel is the Oid English Manor House, published in 
1793. She also wrote several pathetic poems. Mrs. Elizabeth Inch- 
bald's (1753-1821) Simple Story (1791) and Nature and Art (1796) 
obtained much celebrity in their time. She also wrote several popular 
plays. Mrs. Amelia Opie (1769-1853) was the widow of the celebrated 
painter, and her first novel, The Father and Daughter, published in 
1801, may still be read with interest. 

§ 8. At the head of the second division of our fictions is undoubtedly 
William Godwin (1756-1836), a man of truly powerful and original 
genius, who devoted his whole life to the propagation of certain social 
and political theories — visionary, indeed, and totally impracticable, 
but marked with the impress of benevolence and philanthropy. With 
these ideas Godwin's mind was perfectly saturated and possessed, 
and this intensity of conviction, this ardent frojbagandism, not only 
gives to his writings a peculiar character of earnestness and thought, — 
earnestness, the rarest and most impressive of literary qualities, — but 
may be considered to have made him, in spite of all the tendencies of 
his intellectual character — a novelist. Godwin was born in 1756, and 
appears to have sucked with his mother's milk those principles of resist- 
ance to authority and attachment to free opinions in church and state 
which had been handed down from one sturdy Dissenter to another 
from the days of the civil war and the republic. He was in reality one 
of those hard-headed enthusiasts — at once wild visionaries and severe 
logicians — who abounded in the age of Marvell, Milton, and Harring- 
ton ; and his true epoch would have been the first period of Cromwell's 
public life. His own career, extending down to his death in 1836, was 
incessantly occupied with literary activity : he produced an immense 
number of works, some immortal for the genius and originality they 
display, and all for an intensity and gravity of thought, for reading 
and erudition. The first work which brought him into notice was the 
Inquiry cojicerning Political Justice (1793), a Utopian theory of morals 
and government, by which virtue and benevolence were to be the /r/- 
inum mobile of all human actions, and a philosophical republic — that 
favorite dream of visionaries — was to take the place of all our imperfect 
modes of polity. Animated during his whole life by these opinions, 
he has embodied them under a variety of forms, among the rest in his 
immortal romances. The first and finest of these is Caleb Williams 
(1794). Its chief didactic aim is to show the misery and injustice aris- 
ing from our present imperfect constitution of society, and the oppres- 
sion of our imperfect laws, both written and unwritten — the 7^5 scrip- 
turn of the statute-book, and the jus non scriptum of social feeling and 
public opinion. Caleb Williams is an intelligent peasant-lad, taken 



/\.. D. 1756-1S36.] WILLIAM GODWIN. 443 

into the service of Falkland, the. true hero, an incarnation of honor, 
intellect, benevolence, and a passionate love of fame. This model of 
all the chivalrous and e evated qualities has previously, under the prov- 
ocation of the crudest, most persevering, and tyrannic insult, in a 
moment of ungovernable passion, committed a murder: his fanatic 
love of reputation urges him to conceal this crime ; and, in order to do 
this more effectually, he allows an innocent man to be executed, and 
his family ruined. Williams obtains, by an accident, a clew to the guilt 
of Falkland, when the latter, extorting from him an oath that he will 
keep his secret, communicates to his dependant the whole story of his 
double crime, of his remorse and misery. The youth, finding his life 
insupportable from the perpetual suspicion to which he is exposed, and 
the restless sur\'eillance of his master, escapes, and is pursued through 
the greater part of the tale by the unrelenting persecution of Falkland, 
■who, after having committed one crime under unsupportable provoca- 
tion, and a second to conceal the first, is now led, by his frantic and 
unnatural devotion to fame, to annihilate, in Williams, the evidence 
of his guilt. The adventures of the unfortunate fugitive, his dreadful 
vicissitudes of poverty and distress, the steady, bloodhound, unrelax- 
ing pursuit, the escapes and disguises of the victim, like the agonized 
turnings and doublings of the hunted hare — all this is depicted with an 
incessant and never-surpassed power of breathless interest. At last 
Caleb i% formally accused by Falkland of robbery, and naturally dis- 
closes before the tribunal the dreadful secret which had caused his long 
persecution, and Falkland dies of shame and a broken heart. The 
interest of this wonderful tale is indescribable ; the various scenes are 
set before us with something of the ininute reality, the dry, grave sim- 
plicity of Defoe. But in Godwin, the faculty of the picturesque, so 
prominent in the mind of Defoe, is almost absent; everj'thing seems 
to be thought out, elaborated by an effoi't of the will. Defoe seems 
simply to describe things as they really were, and we feel it impossible 
to conceive that they were otherwise ; Godwin describes them (and 
"with a wondrous power of coherency) as we feel they would be in such 
and such circumstances. His descriptions and characters are masterly 
pieces of construction ; or, like mathematical problems, they are de- 
duced step by step, infallibly from certain data. This author possesses 
no humor, no powers of description, at least of nature — none of that 
magic which communicates to inanimate objects the light and glow of 
sentiment — very little pathos; but, on the other hand, few have pos- 
sessed a more penetrating eye for that recondite causation which links 
together motive and action, a more watchful and determined consis- 
tency in tracing the manifestations of such characters as he has once 
conceived, or a more prevailing spirit of self-persuasion as to the reality 
of what he relates. The romance of Caleb Williams is indeed ideal j 
but it is an ideal totally destitute of all the trappings and ornt^ments of 
the ideal : it is like some grand picture painted in dead-color. 

In 1799 appeared Si. Leon ; in i8a^, Fitetivood ; in 1817, Maundeville { 
and in 1830, shortly before his death? Cloi{d^sley^ These fouj worka 



444 THE MODERN NO VELISTS. [Chap. XXIII. 

are romances in the same manner as Caleb Williams, but there is per- 
ceptible in them a gradual diminution in vigor and originality : we do 
not mean o^ positive., but of relative originality. St. Leon is, however, 
a powerful conception, executed in parts with a gloomy energy peculiar 
to this author. The story is of a man who has acquired possession of 
the great arcanum — the secret of boundless wealth and inamortal life; 
and the drift of the book is to give a terrible picture of the misery 
which would result from the possession of such an immortality and 
such riches, when deprived (as such a being must be) of the sympathies 
of human affection, and the joys and woes of human nature. This novel 
contains several powerfully delineated scenes, generally of a gloomy 
tone, and a female character. Marguerite, of singular beauty and interest. 
§ 9. Of more modern novelists William Makepeace Thackeray 
(1811-1863) is unquestionably one of the greatest. He was born at 
Calcutta in 1811, and was educated at the Charter-house, to which he 
makes loving reference in his Vanity Fair and Tke Newcomes, under 
the name of " Gray Friars." He afterwards went to Cambridge, which 
he left without taking his degree. His great desire at this time was to 
become an artist; and with a considerable fortune be started for the 
continent, where he studied for four or five years, in France, Italy, and 
Germany. But though a master of the pencil, Thackeray was not 
destined to become a great artist. By his life abroad, mingling with 
different societies, catching the features of this and that city and its 
people, he was, however, laying in stores of knowledge of the highest 
value for his after life. At Weimar he was one " of at least a score of 
young English lads" who were' there " for study, or sport, or society." 
He was introduced to Goethe, and no small pride he felt when some of 
his sketches were examined by the oldpoet. On returning to London 
Thackeray continued his art studies, but the loss of his fortune com- 
pelled him to throw himself with all his powers into the field of 
literature. He entered himself at the Middle Temple, and in 1848 was 
called to the bar, but he never followed the profession of the law. He 
was first known by his articles in Fraser, to which he contributed under 
the names of Michael Angelo Titmarsh and George Fitzboodle, Esq. 
Tales, criticism, and poetry appeared in great profusion. They have a 
dash, a brilliancy, and fun, which were in after times toned down, and 
which in the present day are rarely seen in the magazines. As Tit- 
marsh he published Tke Paris Sketch Book (1840), Tke Second Funeral 
of Napoleon, Tke Ckronicle 0/ tke Drum (1841), and Tke Irisk Sketch 
Book (1843). These works were illustrated by the author's pencil. 
The chief of his contributions to Fraser as Fitzboodle was the tale of 
Barry Lyndon, The Adventures of an Irish Fortune Hunter. This 
was full of humor and incident, but the reading public was not yet 
expecting a greater future from this unknown writer. In 1841 Punch 
was commenced, and Thackeray became at once one of its most diligent 
supporters. The Snob Papers and Jeames''s Diary appeared from " The 
Fat Contributor," besides many other pieces in prose and verse. M. A. 
Titmarsh in 1S46 gave to the world The Notes of a yourncyfrom Corn* 



A. D. 1811-1863.J THACKERAY. 445 

hill to Grand Cairo, and a Christmas book followed in the next year. 
These works had brought Thackeray into more notice, but he was still 
regarded as nothing but a clever magazine writer. The sly humor, 
the wise philosophy, the earnest morality, had not yet been recognized. 
The Hoggarty Diamond obtained from John Stirling a prophecy of 
future fame, but he was not far from forty before his name became illus- 
trious. In 1846 and the two following years appeared Vanity Fair, by 
many supposed to be the best of his works — certainly the most original. 
The novel was not complete before its author took his place among the 
great writers of English fiction. It seized all circles with astonishment. 
The author of satirical sketches and mirthful poems had shown himself 
to be a consummate satirist and a great novelist. 

Mr. Thackeray's fame was now complete. He had only to write and 
his writings were at once read. A Christmas volume was published in 
1848, Our Street, and was followed in 1849 t>y Dr. Birch and his Toung 
Friends. His next great work was also in course of publication. In 
1849 and 1850 Pendennis appeared, inferior in plot, but quite equal to 
Vanity Fair in humor, character, and incident. Another Christmas 
story appeared in 1851, The Kichlchurys on the Rhine, which brought 
down the indignation of the Times in the oft-repeated charge of cyni- 
cism, to which Mr. Titmarsh replied in the clever little preface to the 
second edition, An Essay on Thunder and Small Beer. In 1851 the 
lectures on The English Humorists of the Eighteenth Century were 
delivered at Willis's Rooms, where the best men of London society 
crowded to hear some of the most interesting, brilliant, and yet pro- 
found criticism on the greatest prose writers of our nation. These were 
repeated with similar success in Scotland and America; and in the 
latter country, in 1855-6, he delivered, on a second visit, his course on 
The Georges, which were received with the greatest enthusiasm on his 
return to England. In 1852 Thackeray wrote his Esmo7id, in our esti- 
mation his most perfect work of art. The Nevjcomes followed in 1855, 
perhaps the most popular of Thackeray's works. The heartiness and 
earnestness of the author are not so much concealed as in his other 
novels. Whilst the charges of severity against him were unfounded, 
he seemed to have profited by them, and this work evinces more of the 
tenderness which marked his generous nature. 

In 1857 Thackeray made his first and only attempt to enter public 
life. He stood for Oxford, but was defeated by Mr. Cardwell by a 
majority of sixtj^-seven. He returned with more vigor than ever to 
literature, and before the end of that year commenced The Virgi?iians, 
ivhich was a sort of sequel to Esmotid. There was still the master 
hand visible, but it was too much of a repetition of his older stories. 
On the establishment of the Cornhill Magazine in i860, Thackeray 
became editor, and whilst connected with it he contributed his later 
stories, The Adventures of Philip, Lovcll the Widower, and a little 
monthly sketch de omnibus rebus et quibusdam aliis, though oftener 
de nihilo, called the Routidabout Papers. He died suddenly in the 
house which he had built at Kensington on December 23, 1863. 



446 THE MODERN' NO VELISTS. [Chap. XXIII. 

§ 10. In presenting some sketch of the works of this great novelist 
we must exclude from our notice his smaller and earlier writings. Of 
them as a whole it may be said that they are full of humor and irony, 
the moral purpose of the writer not so clearly evident, but yet present 
in them all. Social foibles, individual weaknesses, the lesser sins of 
society, are all shown up and treated with quiet satire. Most of his 
smaller writings are collected in the four volumes of Miscellanies pub- 
lished in 1857. Here appears the poetry of Thackeray. It has been 
well said, " Thackeray was not essentially poetic; " that is, he did not 
look at everything through the medium of the poetic faculty; his 
thoughts and imaginings were not always governed by a poetic law. 
He concealed what was poetic in his nature. He is half ashamed of 
the sentiment which must have expression. The characters he loves 
best are the characters where emotion and affection hold their sway, 
and he cannot keep telling you so as he writes, but he does it with a sort 
of bashful reticence. He was thoroughly English in the structure of his 
mind. He could have wept as well as a native of Southern Europe, 
and sometimes the eye is moist, but the old Gothic spirit despises a 
man in tears ; and so he stands proudly up in self-reliance and a gener- 
ous manliness. The poetry of his nature was something he ever kept 
in the recess of his soul. It gave a tenderness to his rebuke, it shed a 
beauty on his conceptions ; and as his countenance was lit with an 
expression of almost womanly tenderness, so his v/riting is pervaded 
with a gentle and loving pathos. But he was able to express himself 
in a poetic form with much beauty and grace. What finer little poem 
can be mentioned than his Bouillabaisse!' and how grand are some of 
the strains in his poem on the opening of the Great Exhibition of 1851 ! 
One of his best humorous poems was that on the Battle of Limerick, 
and we scarcely know which most to admire, the inimitable catching 
of the spirit and tones of Irish agitators, or the quiet humor, which 
laughs at the folly of the people, and yet in which laughter they them- 
selves could scarcely help joining. Surely the charge against him of 
cj'nicism was unfounded. His humor is almost as trenchant as Jer- 
rold's, while it causes as little pain as that of Sydney Smith. 

Vatiity Fair, the first of Thackeray's chief works, is called a " Novel 
without a Hero." It is possessed, however, of two heroines — Rebecca 
Sharp, the impersonation of intellect without heart, and Amelia Sed- 
ley, who has heart without intellect. " Becky Sharp " is without doubt 
the ablest creation of modern fiction. The selfish, prudent, brave little 
woman, who without friend or helper wins her way, claims the reader's 
interest, and very artistic is the set-off which the silly, yet most lovable 
Amelia presents to the character of Rebecca. As a whole the book is 
full of quiet sarcasm and severe rebuke. It is replete with humor and 
morality, and rivets attention to the end by the vivid reality of all the 
persons and scenes. This work alone might bear out the charge of 
cynicism against Thackeray; but a careful reading will perceive the 
kindly heart that is beaming under the bitterest sentence and the most 
caustic irony. 



A. D. 1811-1863.] THACKERA Y. 447 

Pendennis was the immediate successor of Vatiify Fair, and is the 
life of a Tom Jones of the present age. Literary life presents scope for 
description, and is well used in the history of Pen, who is a hero of no 
very great worth. His somewhat silly love adventures and introduc- 
tion to fashionable life through Major Pendennis form the groundwork 
of the story. The Major is a most truthful picture of a modern tuft- 
hunter. He and his patrons afford room for the satire and the wisdom, 
the scorn and the counsel, with which the book abounds. As Vanity 
Fair gives us Thackeray's knowledge of life in the present day, so Es- 
9no7id exhibits his intimate acquaintance with the society of the reigns 
of the later Stuarts and earlier Georges. Like Vanity Fair it is with- 
out plot, and gives in an autobiographical form the life of Colonel 
Henry Esmond. The style of some hundred and fifty years ago is 
reproduced with marvellous fidelity. The L,ady Beatrice is really 
another Becky Sharp; not equal to the modem woman of the world in 
tact and power, she is superior in beauty, grace, and other womanly 
perfections. The story of Esmond is probably the best of Thackeray's 
writings. Though Esmond is too much of the Sir Charles Grandison 
type, he is a noble character, and the delicacy of delineation under the 
guise of autobiography is one of the eiost sustained dramatic efforts in 
the whole range of English fiction. The fall of 'Trix is a mistake, for 
it is both unnatural and unneeded. Lady Castlewood has all the gen- 
tleness of Amelia, with much more intellect. We love her so much 
that we can almost forgive the author marrying her to Esmond. 

Of the other works of Thackeray a passing mention must suffice. 
The Virginians is the history of the grandsons of Esmond, and though 
not published till 1857, "^^ mention it next as related to Esmo7id in his- 
tory. It consists of a series of well-described scenes and incidents in 
the reign of George II. In 1853 ^^^ ended the most popular and best 
liked of Thackeray's novels. The Nexucomes. " The leading theme or 
moral of the story is the misery occasioned by forced and ill-assorted 
marriages." The noble courtesy, the Christian gentlemanliness, of 
Colonel Nevjcome is perhaps a complete reflection of the author him- 
self. Ethel Neivcotne is Thackeray's favorite female character. The 
minor personages are most life-like, while over the whole there is a 
clear exhibition of the real kindliness of heart which Thackeray pos- 
sessed. Philip and Lovel the Widower appeared in the Cornhill, and 
here too was published the fragment left by him at his death. These 
are reproductions of'the old stories. The chief characteristics of his 
later writings are increased mellowness of tone, maturity of thought, 
and more expressed kindliness and generosity of sentiment. 

The two courses of lectures On the English Humorists and The four 
Georges are models of style and criticism. The latter is a clever sketch 
cjf the home and court life of the first Hanoverians. The lectures are 
full of thoughts sternly abhorrent of the falsity and rottenness which 
these courts presented, while admiration for the goodness and kindness 
of the third George almost makes the lecturer forget his weaknesses. 
As in his novels, so in liis history, Thackeray alwaj's elevates the heart 



448 THE MODERN NOVELISTS. [Chap. XXHI. 

above the head, the emotions above the intellect. The Humorists is a 
more valuable work, containing some of the most complete criticism on 
those writers which is to be found in our language. The principle on 
which some of the writers, such as Pope, have been included, has been 
questioned. The treatment of Sterne is too severe, while before Swift 
it has been well said that "Thackeray seemed to quail," and the sketch 
of the Dean of St. Patrick is perhaps the feeblest. That of Addison 
must receive the first place. None could better estimate the essayist 
than Thackeray. The wit, the man of literary fashion, the kindly gen- 
tleman of the reign of Anne could not be better described and judged 
than by the wit, the essayist, and novelist of the reign of Victoria. In 
both there were the same graceful humor and gentle piety. 

§ 11. At the head of the very large class of female novelists who 
have adorned the more recent literature of England, we must place 
Maria Edgeworth (about 1765-1849). This place she deserves, not 
only for the immense number, variety, and originality of her works of 
fiction, but also, and perhaps in a superior degree, for their admirable 
good sense and utility. Her power of delineating character, and par- 
ticularly Irish character, renders, however, her tales exceedingly attrac- 
tive ; and by a complete series oi stories, graduated so as to interest 
and describe almost every age from early childhood to maturity, and 
adapted to the moral requirements of various classes in society, she has 
certainly rendered immense services to the cause of prudence and prac- 
tical virtue. Her long and useful life was chiefly passed in Ireland, and 
many of her earlier works were produced in partnership with her father, 
Richard Lovell Edgeworth, a man of eccentric character and great 
intellectual activity, who devoted himself to experiments in education 
and social ameliorations. The most valuable series of Miss Edge- 
worth's educational stories were the charming tales entitled Frank, 
Harry and Lucy, Rosamond, and others, combined under the gei>eral 
heading oi Early Lessons. These are written in the simplest style and 
language, and are intelligible and intensely interesting even to very 
young readers, while the knowledge of character they display, the nat- 
uralness of their incidents, and the sound practical principles they 
inculcate, make them delightful even to the adult reader. In the 
Parents' Assistant the same qualities are applied to the moral and intel- 
lectual improvement of a more advanced age ; and the common errors, 
weaknesses, and prejudices of boys and girls are combated in a series 
of stories which in the good sense and observation they display, are as 
admirable as in their artistic construction. Some of these — as, for 
example, Sim fie Susan — are little masterpieces of style and execution. 
Miss Edgeworth constantly opposes not only the meaner vices and 
errors, but that tendency to enthusiasm which in the young is so often, 
though generous in its origin, the source of much misfortune and dis- 
appointment; and she strenuously inculcates the happiness and the 
duty of industry, moderation, and contentment. Her writings for the 
young form a striking contrast with those of almost all the other authors 
who have undertaken the same difficult task. They genei"ally, as Ber- 



A. D. 1765-1849.] MARTA EDGEWORTH. GALT. 449 

quin for example, fall into the gross error of representing virtue as 
uniformly triumphant, and vice as uniformly punished, — a false picture 
of life, which the experience of the youngest reader shows to be falla- 
cious, — while at the same time they adopt a didactic and preaching tone, 
from which, whether young or old, we instinctively revolt. The tales 
of the Parents' Assistant are completed by the excellent three collec- 
tions respectively called Moral Tales, Popular Tales, and Fashionable 
Tales ; in which the errors and temptations of middle and aristocratic 
life are most ably exhibited. Some of these, as the stories of Enmci, 
Leo7iora, Belinda, Sic, approach, in extent and importance, to regular 
novels, though they all have some specific moral aim. But pfhaps the 
most truly original of Miss Edgeworth's stories is the inimitable Castle 
Rackrent, giving the biographies, equally humorous and pathetic, of a 
series of Irish landlords. The follies and vices which have caused no 
small proportion of the social miseries that have afflicted Ireland are 
here shown up with a truly dramatic effect. In the novels of Patron- 
age and the Absentee other social errors, either peculiar to that country 
or common to it with others, are powerfully delineated. Almost all 
these works show a delicate appreciation of the merits and the weak- 
nesses of the Irish character, and especially of the Irish peasantry; and 
Miss Edgeworth has in some sense done for her humbler countrymen 
what Scott did with such loving genius for the Scottish people. In her 
writings we see the Irish peasant as he is; and it is impossible to con- 
ceive a greater contrast than that of her animated sketches and the 
conventional Irishman of the stage or of fiction. The services ren- 
dered by Maria Edgeworth to the cause of common sense are incalcu- 
lable; and the singular absence of enthusiasm in her writings, whether 
religious, political, or social, only makes us more wonder at the force, 
vivacity, and consistency with which she has drawn a large and varied 
gallery of characters. 

§ 12. Miss Edgeworth's never-failing success in the delineation of 
Irish character will warrant us Jn placing her at the head of a class of 
novelists almost peculiar to English literature, and which ought to form 
a subdivision in this part of our subject : we mean writers whose works 
are devoted to the delineation of local manners and character. Thus 
there are many excellent writers of fiction who have devoted themselves 
to the painting of the peculiar manners, oddities, and domestic life of 
Scotland and Ireland exclusively. John Galt (1779-1839), in a long 
series of novels, has confined himself to the minute delineation — as 
rich, as original, and as careful as the workmanship of Douw, Mieris, 
or Teniers — of the interior life of the Scottish peasantry and provin- 
cial tradespeople. The Annals of the Parish, the supposed journal of 
a quaint, simple-minded Presbyterian pastor, give us a singularly amus- 
ing insight into the microscopic details of Scottish life in the lower 
classes. Gait's primary characteristic is a dry, subdued, quaint humor — 
a quality very perceptible in the ?ower orders of Scotland, and which in 
his works, as in the national cJ aracter of his countrymen, is often ac- 
companied by a very profound and true sense of the pathetic The 
3«* 



450 THE MODERN NO VELISTS. [Chap. XXIII. 

more romantic and tragical side of the national idiosyncrasy has been 
exquisitely portrayed in the touching tales of Professor John Wilson 
(1785-1854), also celebrated as a poet and the author of Nodes Am- 
brosiatics, of whom we shall speak more fully in the subsequent chap- 
ter. In his Lights and Shadows of Scottish Life, published in 1822, 
and in The Trials of Margaret Lyndsay, which appeared in 1823, he 
exhibits a deep feeling for the virtues and trials of humble life. In this 
department of local manners the Irish have peculiarly distinguished 
themselves, as might indeed be expected, when we remember the intense 
vivacity of the Hibernian character, and the abundance of materials 
for the novelist afforded by the incessant social, religious, and political 
discord which for three centuries has never ceased to convulse that 
country. A long list of names presents itself to our notice, of which it 
is only possible to mention — Lady Morgan (about 1786-1859), John 
Banim (d. 1842), Crofton Croker (1798-1854), and William Carle- 
ton. All these persons have devoted themselves, with more or less 
success, to the depicting the humors or the passions, the bright or dark, 
tlie light and shadow, of Irish life. Some — as, for example, Banim — 
have attached themselves more exclusively to the tragic, or rather 
melodramatic, scenes of Irish society, generally in the peasant class ; 
and though it is impossible not to appreciate in their works a very 
marked degree of power, picturesqueness, imagination, and eloquence, 
yet these high qualities are often eclipsed by an exaggerated and fero- 
cious energy which defeats its own object, and renders the work ridicu- 
lous instead of sublime. In the Irish character there is no repose, and 
where there is no repose there can be no contrast — the only element 
of strong impressions. Other authors, again, as Crofton Croker, have 
attached themselves more particularly, and with more effect, to the 
merely romantic and imaginative features of the national legends and 
superstitions; and the latter has produced a little collection of fairy 
tales worthy to be placed beside the delicious Haus und Kindermdrchen 
of the brothers Grimm. 

§ 13. Of those who have devoted themselves to the delineation of 
purely English manners in all ranks of society, the number is so im- 
mense that it would be as useless as tedious to give even a catalogue 
of their names and works. We shall content ourselves with selecting 
a few of the most prominent, or rather such as appear typical, and as 
consequently will give, in each instance, the general idea of the class 
at whose head we place them ; and first, of the writers of what are 
called " fashionable novels" — /. e. such as pretend to depict the man- 
ners, habits, and sentiments of aristocratic life. There is no country 
in the world, assuredly, in which the middle and lower classes possess 
so much personal liberty, and consequently so much enlightenment 
and independence, as England; but at the same time there is hardlj- 
any nation in which, generally speaking, there is such a tendency in 
each class to admire and ape the manners of the class immediately 
above it. Our present business is with the literary effect of this pecu- 
liar admiration of aristocracy. Its tendency has been to flood our 



A. D. 1775-1817.] MISS AUSTEN-. 451 

literature with a preposterous amount of trashy writings, proposing to 
give a faithful reflection of the manners and habits of high life. Fre- 
quently composed, and as a mere speculation, by persons totally unac- 
quainted with the scenes they essayed to describe, and relying for their 
interest either on grotesque exaggerations of what they supposed to 
exist in those favored regions, — the Empyrean of fashion, — or on 
coafse scandal and misrepresentation, these egregious books were either 
signpost caricatures of what the authors had never seen, or were clumsy 
rechauffes of forgotten scandal, without wit, sense, probability, or na- 
ture. The more extravagant, however, were these pictures, and the 
less they resembled the ordinary life of the reader, the more eagerly 
were they admired ; and it is not to be wondered at that the time should 
come when persons, either themselves members of aristocratic society, 
or men capable of forming true ideas on the subject, should have taken 
in hand to give something like a true picture of the life of these envied 
circles. Among the best of these fashionable novels are those of T. H. 
Lister (d. 1842), R. Plumer Ward (d. 1846), and Lady Blessington 
(1790-1849). The novels of Ward are distinguished by the author's 
attempt to unite with an interesting story a good deal of elevated phil- 
osophical and literary speculation, so that many of his works — as, for 
instance, Tretnaine, De Vere, De Clifford^ &c. — are something which 
is neither a good narrative nor a collection of good essays. Either the 
philosophy impedes the narrative, or the narrative destroys the interest 
and coherency of the philosophy. But the writings of Ward, as well 
as of Lister, whose Granby may be read with pleasure, are valuable 
for the simple and unaffected tone of their language, for the moral 
truth and elevation of their sentiment, and for the charm that can only 
be expressed by that most untranslatable of English words — " gentle- 
manliness." 

§ 14. Descending the social scale, we come to a very large and char- 
acteristic department of works — the department which undoubtedly 
possesses not only the greatest^ degree of value for the English reader, 
but will have the most powerful attraction for foreign students of our 
literature. This is that class of fictions which depicts the manners of 
the middle and lower classes; and here again we shall encounter a sin- 
gular amount of female names. The first in point of time, and the 
first in point of merit, in this class, is Miss Austen (1775-1817), whose 
novels may be considered as models of perfection in a new and very 
difficult species of writing. She depends for her effect upon no sur- 
prising adventures, upon no artfully-involved plot, upon no scenes 
deeply pathetic or extravagantly humorous. She paints a society 
which, though virtuous, intelligent, and enviable above all others, 
presents the fewest salient points of interest and singularity to the 
novelist : we mean the society of English country-gentlemen. Who- 
ever desires to know the interior life of that vast and admirable body, 
the rural gentrj-^ of England, — a body which absolutely exists in no 
other country on earth, and to which the nation owes many of its most 
valuable characteristics, — must read Miss Austen's novels, Sense and 



452 THE MODERN NOVELISTS. [Chap. XXIIL 

Sensibility, Pride and Prejudice, Mansjield Park, and Emma. In 
these works the reader will find very little variety and no picturesque- 
ness of persons, little to inspire strong emotion, nothing to excite 
wonder or laughter; but he will find admirable good sense, exquisite 
discrimination, and an unrivalled power of easy and natural dialogue. 
Miss Ferrier (d. 1854) htis also written a number of novels, gener- 
ally depicting, with great vivacity and truth, the oddities and affecta- 
tions of semi-vulgar life; but her works are far inferior, as artistic 
productions, to the elegant sketches of Miss Austen. 

Of the purely comic manner of fiction there are few better examples 
than the novels of Theodore Hook (1788-1842). He is greatest in the 
description of London life, and particularly in the rich drollerj^ with 
which he paints the vulgar efforts of suburban gentility to ape the 
manners of the great. There is not one of his numerous novels and 
shorter tales in which some scene could not be cited carrying this kind 
of drollery almost to the brink of farce. Many of his works — as Say- 
ings atid Doings — consist of short tales, each destined to develop the 
folly or evil consequences of some particular inconsistency or affecta- 
tion : thus the work just cited consists of a set of detached stories, each 
written on the text, as it were, of some common well-known proverb ; 
and though the narratives are of very slight construction, and do not 
contain very profound views o^ character, they none of them are devoid 
of some incredibly droll caricatures of maniiers. What, for example, 
can be more irresistible than the Bloomsbury evening party in Max- 
well, or the dinner at Mr. Abberley's in the Man of Many Friends ? 
Hook's more exclusively serious novels are generally' considered as 
inferior to those in which there is a mixture of the ludicrous ; and for 
one of the last works produced by this clever writer before his death, 
he selected a subject admirably adapted to the peculiar strength of his 
talent. This was Jack Brag, a most spirited embodiment of the arts 
employed by a vulgar pretender to creep into aristocratic society, and 
the ultimate discomfiture of the absurd hero. Hook was a man of 
great but superficial powers, one of the most amusing conversationists 
of the day, an inimitable relater of anecdotes, a singer, and an improv- 
visatore ; but he was himself afflicted with the same passion for the 
society of the great as he has so wittily caricatured in Mr. Brag, and 
his life was passed in incessant but desultory literary labor as a novel- 
ist and journalist, in frequent disappointments, in debt, and in the empty 
applauses of the circle he amused. He died in 1842, leaving a large 
number of works, all of them exhibiting strong proofs of humor, but 
mostly deprived of permanent value by the ^|aste perceptible in their 
execution. The best of them are, perhaps, Gilbert Gurney, and its 
continuation, Gurney Married. 

Very similar to Theodore Hook in the subject and treatment of her 
novels, and not unlike him in the general tone of her talent, is Mrs. 
Trollope, whose happiest eflbrts are the exhibition of the gross arts 
and impudent stratagems employed by the pretenders to fashion. Mrs. 
Trollope's chief defect is coarseness and violence of contrast : she does 



A. D. 1789-1855.] 3nSS MITFORD. 453 

not know where to stop, and is too apt to render her characters not 
ridiculous only, but odious, in which she offends against the primary 
laws of comic writing. Moreover she neglects light and shade in her 
pictures : her personages are either mere embodiments of all that is 
contemptible, or cold abstractions of everything refined and excellent. 
Her best work is, perhaps, The Widow Barnady, in which she has 
reached the ideal of a character of gross, full-blown, palpable, complete 
pretei sion and vulgar assurance. The widow, with her coarse hand- 
some face, and her imperturbable unconquerable self-possession, is a 
truly rich comic conception. Mrs. Trollope's plots are exceedingly 
slight and ill-constructed, but her narrative is lively, and she particu- 
larly excels in her characters of good-natured, shrewd old maids. 

It would be a great injustice were we not to devote a few words of 
admiration to the charming sketches of Miss Mitford (1789-1855), a 
lady who has described the village life and scenery of England with 
the grace and delicacy of Goldsmith himself. Our Village is one of the 
most delightful books in the language : it is full of those home scenes 
which form the most exquisite peculiarity, not only of the external 
nature, but also of the social life of the country. In nothing is our 
nation so happily distinguished from all others as in the enlightenment, 
the true refinement, the virtue, and the dignity of her middle and lower 
classes, and in no position are those classes so worthy of admiration 
as in the quiet, tranquil existence of the country. She describes with 
the truth and fidelity of Crabbe and Cowper, but without the moral 
gloom of the one, and the morbid sadness of the other. Whether it is 
her pet greyhound Lily, or the sunburnt, curly, ragged village child, 
the object glows before us with something of that daylight sunshine 
which we find in its highest perfection in the rural and familiar images 
of Shakspeare. 

§ 15. III. Oriental Novels. — The immense colonial possessions 
of Great Britain, and particularly her colossal empire in the East, 
combined with the passion for travelling so strongly manifested in the 
nation, have created in our literature a class of works which may be 
considered as forming almost a separate department of fiction. These 
are novels which have for their aim the delineation of the manners and 
scenery of distant countries ; and as among these works the Oriental 
are naturally the most splendid and prominent, we shall take three 
which seem the most favorable specimens of this subdivision. They 
are different from each other in form, in tone, and in scope, but are 
equally distinguished for their cleverness and individuality. Of these 
Oriental novels, then, we select, as the most striking examples. The 
History of the Caliph Vathek, by William Beckford (1759-1844) ; the 
romance of Anastasius, by Thomas Hope (about 1770-1831) ; and the 
inimitable Hajji Baba of James Morier (d. 1849). '^^^ ^^^^ °^ these 
fictions was as wild, strange, and dreamily magnificent as the character 
and biography of its author — a man almost as rich, as splendidly- 
luxurious, and as coldly meditative as the Comte de Monte-Christo, in 
Humas's popular story. Vathek is an Arabian tale, and was originally 



454 THE MODERN NOVELISTS. [Chap. XXIII. 

published in 1784, in French, being one of the rare instances of an 
Englishman being able to write that difficult language with the grace 
and purity of a native. Being afterwards translated by the author into 
his mother tongue, it forms one of the most extraordinary monuments 
of splendid imagerj' and caustic wit which literature can afford. It is 
very short, and in some respects resembles (at least in its cold sarcasm of 
tone and exquisite refinement of style) the 2'«^/^ of Voltaire. But VatJiek 
is immeasurably superior in point of imagination, and in its singular 
fidelity to the Oriental coloring and costume. Indeed, if we set aside its 
contemptuous and sneering tone, it might pass for a translation of one 
of The Thousand and One Nights. It narrates the adventures of a 
haughty and effeminate monarch, led on by the temptations of a malig- 
nant genie and the sophistries of a cruel and ambitious mother, to 
commit all sorts of crimes, to abjure his faith, and to offer allegiance 
to Eblis, the Mahometan Satan, in the hope of seating himself on the 
throne of the Preadamite sultans. The gradual development in. his 
mind of sensuality, cruelty, atheism, and insane and Titanic ambition, 
is very finely traced : the imagery throughout is truly splendid, its 
Eastern gorgeousness tempered and relieved by the sneering, sarcastic 
irony of a French Encjxlopcdiste; and the concluding scene soars into 
the highest atmosphere of grand descriptive poetry. Here he descends 
into the subterranean palace of Eblis, where he does homage to the 
Evil One, and wanders for a while among the superhuman splendors 
of those regions of punishment. The fancy of genius has seldom con- 
ceived anything more terrible than " the vast multitude, incessantly 
passing, who severally kept their right hands on their heart, without 
once regarding anything around them. They all avoided each other, 
and, though surrounded by a multitude that no one could number, each 
wandered at random, unheedful of the rest, as if alone on a desert 
where no foot had trodden." 

Hope, like Beckford, was a man of refined taste, luxurious habits, and 
possessed of a colossal fortune accumulated in commerce. His work, 
though very different in form from that of Beckford, was not unlike it 
in some points. A?iastasius, published in 1819, purports to be the auto- 
biography of a Greek, who, to escape the consequences of his own 
crimes and villanies of every kind, becomes a renegade, and passes 
through a long series of the most extraordinary and romantic vicissi- 
tudes. The hero is a compound of almost all the vices of his unfortu- 
nate and degraded nation ; and in his vicissitudes of fortune we 
see passing before us, as in a diorama, the whole social, political, 
and religious life of Turkey and the Morea. The style is elaborate 
and passionate : and this, as well as the character of the principal 
personage, — 

"Linked with one virtue, and a thousand crimes " — 

reminds us, in reading Anastasius, very strongly of the manner of 
Lord Byron. Indeed this romance is very m|^h what Byron would 
have written in prose — the same splendid, vivid, and ever-fresh 



A. D. 1759-1849.] JAMES MORIER. 455 

pictures of the external nature of the most beautiful and interesting 
region of the world, the same intensity of passion, the same gloomy 
coloring of unrepenting crime. 

But if the darker side of Oriental nature be presented to us in Va- 
thck and Ajtastasms, in the former combined with the caustic irony of 
Voltaire, in the second with the mournful grandeur of Byron, the Hajji 
Baba of Morier will make us ample amends in drollery and a truly 
comic verve. This is the Gil Blai of Oriental life. Hajji Baba is a 
barber of Ispahan, who passes thro jgh a long but delightfully varied 
series of adventures, such as happen in the despotic and simple govern- 
ments of the East, where the pipe-bearer of one day may become the 
vizier of the next. The hero is an easy, merry good-for-nothing, 
whose dexterity and gayety it is impossible not to admire, even while 
we rejoice in the punishment which his manifold rascalities draw 
down upon him ; and perhaps there is no work in tiie world which 
gives so vast, so lively, and so accurate a picture of every grade, every 
phase of Oriental existence. Mr. Morier, who resided nearly all his 
life in various parts of the East, and whose long sojourn as British 
minister in Persia made him profoundly acquainted with the character 
of the people of that countrj', has most inimitably sustained his imagi- 
nary personage. The Hajji is not only a thorough Oriental, but in- 
tensely Persian, and a Persian of the lower class into the bargain ; a 
perfect specimen of his nation, — the French of the East, — ^^J^ talka- 
tive, dexterous, vain, enterprising, acute, not over scrupulous, but always 
amusing. The worthy Hajji, in the continuation of the story, comes to 
England in the suite of an embassy from " the asylum of the uni- 
verse; "and perhaps nothing was ever more truly natural and comic 
than the way in which he relates his impressions and adventures in this 
country, his surprise at the condition of women among us, his admira- 
tion of the " moonfaces," and, above all, his astonished wonder at the 
" Coompany," the great enigma to all Orientals. 

§ 16. IV. Naval and Military Novels. — It now remains only to 
speak of one species of prose fiction — that which has for its subject the 
manners and personages of marine or military life. It may easily be 
conceived that, the former service being most entwined with all the 
sympathies of the national heart, the subdivision of marine novels 
should be the richest. The contrary might be naturally expected in 
France ; and in France we accordingly find that though, particularly 
in modern times, numerous novelists have endeavored to put in a pic- 
turesque and attractive light the manners and scenes of a sea-life, yet 
that it is the army which has supplied popular literature — the novel, 
the chanson, and the vaudeville — with the types of character most 
identified with the national feeling and predilection. What the 7nili- 
taire is to the French public, the sailor is to the English : in the songs 
of the people, on their stage, in their favorite books, the "Jack Tar," 
the " old Agamemnon " who followed Nelson to the Nile, is as perpet- 
ually recurring and indispensable a personage as the " vieux mous- 
tache," the "grogneur de la vieille garde," to the French, And this is 



456 TUE MODERN NOVELISTS. [Chap. XXI II. 

natural enougli. Each country is peculiarly proud of that class to 
which it owes its brightest and least disputable glory : as the French- 
man naturally hugs himself in the idea that France is incontestably the 
first military nation in the world, so the Englishman, no less naturally, 
is peculiarly vain of his country's naval achievements ; not that in 
either case the former at all forgets or undervalues the naval triumphs 
of his flag, or the latter the military exploits of his; but simply because 
France is not essentially maritime, and England is, and therefore the 
natives of each attach themselves to that species of glory which they 
consider the peculiar property of their nation. 

At the head of our marine novelists stands Captain Marry at (1792- 
1848), one of the most easy, lively, and truly humorous story-tellers 
we possess. One of the chief elements of his talent is undoubtedly the 
tone of high, effervescent, irrepressible animal spirits which charac- 
terizes everj^thing he has written. He seems as if he sat down to com- 
pose without having formed the least idea of what he is going to saj', 
and sentence after sentence seems to flow from his pen without thought, 
without labor, and without hesitation. He seems half tipsy with the 
very gayety of his heart, and never scruples to introduce the most 
grotesque extravagances of character, language, and event, provided 
they are likely to excite a laugh. This would produce absurdity and 
failure as often as laughter were it not that he has a natural tact and 
judgment in the ludicrous ; and this happy audacity — this hit-or-miss 
boldness — serves him admirably well. Nothing can surpass the live- 
liness and drollery of his Peter Simple^ Jacob Faithful, or Mr. Mid- 
shipman Easy. What an inexhaustible gallery of originals has he 
paraded before us! The English national temperament has a peculiar 
tendency to produce eccentricity of manner, and a sea-life in particular 
seems calculated to foster these oddities till they burst into full blow 
and luxuriance. Marryat's narratives are exceedingly inartificial, and 
often grossly improbable ; but we read on with gay delight, never think- 
ing of the story, but only solicitous to follow the droll adventures, and 
laugh at the still droller characters. Smollett himself has nothing richer 
than Captain Kearney, with his lies and innocent ostentation ; Cap- 
tain To, with his passion for pig, his lean wife and her piano ; or than 
Mr. Easy fighting his ship under a green petticoat for want of an ensign. 
This author has also a peculiar talent for the delineation of boyish 
characters : his Faithful and Peter Simple (the " fool of the family ") 
not only amuse but interest us ; and in many passages he has shown 
no mean mastery over the pathetic emotions. Though superficial in 
his view of character, he is generally faithful to reality, and shows an 
extensive if not very deep knowledge of what his old waterman calls 
*' human natvr." There are few authors more amusing than Marryat; 
his books have the effervescence of champagne. 

Captains Glasscock and Chamier, Mr. Howard and Mr. Tre- 
LAWNEY, have also produced naval fictions of merit: .the two last 
authors have followed a more tragic path than the others mentioned 
above, and have written passages of great power and impressiveness ; 



A. D. 1835.] MICHAEL SCOTT. 45l7 

but their works are injured by a too frequent occurrence of exaggerated 
pictures of blood and horror — a fatal fault, from which they might 
have been warned bj the example of Eugene Sue. 

The tales called Tom Cringle's Log and The Cruise of the Midge 
are also works in this kind (although not exclusively naval) of striking 
brilliancy and imaginative power. In these we have a most gorgeously 
colored and faithful delineation of the luxuriant scenery of the West 
Indian Archipelago, and the manners of the Creole and. colonist popu- 
lation are reproduced with consummate drollery and inexhaustible 
splendor of language. They were the production of Mr. Michael 
Scott (d. 1835), a gentleman engaged in commerce and personally 
familiar with the scenes he described; and the admiration they excited 
at their first appearance (anonymously) in Blackivood^s Magazine 
cause them to be ascribed to the pen of some of the most distinguished 
of living writers, particularly to that of Professor Wilson. 

The military novels are mostly by living authors, and are therefore 
excluded from our work. Mr. Gleig has recorded in a narrative form 
many striking episodes of that *' war of giants " whose most glorious 
and terrific scenes were the lines of Torres Vedras, the storm of Bada- 
joz, and the field of Waterloo; and a number of younger authors, chiefly 
Irishmen, as Messrs. Lever and Lover, have detailed with their 
national vivacity the grotesque oddities and gay bravery of their coun- 
trymen, who never appear to so much advantage as on the field of 
battle. 

39 



458 



NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. [Chap. XXIII. 



NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 



OTHER NOVELISTS. 

A few other Novelists, omitted in the preceding 
chapter, deserve a few words : — 

Heney Mackenzie (1746-1831), a Scotchman 
nnd a resident in Edinburgh, where he enjoyed 
great literary celebrity. He is best known by The 
Man of Feeling, published in 1771, in which he imi- 
tated with considerable success the style of Sterne. 
He also vn-ote The Man of the World, which is in- 
ferior to the former novel. 

Thomas Holokoft (1745-1809), an ardent ad- 
mirer of the French revolutionary doctrines, which 
he introduced into his novel, Anna St. Ives, pub- 
lished in 179*2. He is better known by his comedy) 
The Road to Ruin. 

SoruiA Lee (1750-1824) and Habbiet Lee 
(1766-1851), the authoresses of the Canterbury Tales, 
of which the greater part was written by the younger 
eister. The first volume appeared in 1797. These 
Tales arc of real merit, and will well repay perusal. 
" Kruitzner, or the German's Tale," says Lord By- 
ron, " made a deep impression upon me, and may 
indeed be said to contain the germ of much that I 
have since written." He produced in 1821 a dra- 
matic version of this tale, under the title of Werner, 
or the Inheritance. 

Db. John Moobe (1729-1802), a native of Stir- 
ling, and a medical man, wrote numerous works, of 
which his novel called Zeluco, published in 1T83, is 
tlie best known. Dr. Moore had lived abroad for 
Bouie years, and the scene of the novel is laid chiefly 
in Italy. 

Anna Mabia Poeteb (1781-1832) and Jane 
POETEB (1776-18i'iO), two sisters whose works were 
very popular in their day. The ThaddeuM of War- 
mxe (1803) and the Scottish Chiefs (1809) of the lat- 
ter are the best known. The style is animated, and 
some of the scenes striking ; but they exhibit little 
knowledge of real life or character. 

Meb. Maey BE0NTON (1T78-1818), a native of 
the Orkneys, and the authoress of Self-Control 
(1811) and Discipline (1814), two novels of consid- 
erable power. 

Me8. Elizabeth Hamilton (1758-1816), a 
native of Belfast, but brought up in Scotland, the 
authoress of the popular moral tale, The Cottagers 
of Glenburnie, published in 1808. 

John Gibson Lockuaet (1794-1854), who will 
claim a fuller notice in the following chapter, must 
be mentioned here on account ol his four remarka- 
t>ie novels: VakriuSf a Roman Story (1821), a tale 



of the times of Trajan ; Adcm Blair (1822), Regi- 
nald Dalton (1823), and Matthew Wald (1824). 

James Bailue I'babeb (d. 1850), the author of 
two Oriental romances. The KuzziJbash, a Tale of 
Rhorasan (1828), and The Persian Adventurer, 
of the same character as Mr. Morier's novels. 

Cuablotte Beonte (1824-1855), better known 
by her pseudonyme CCEEEB Bell, the daughter of 
a Yorkshire clergyman, published in 1847 a novel, 
entitled Jane Eyre. This was followed by Shirley 
in 1849, and Villette in 1853. These novels are re- 
markable works, exhibiting great knowledge of 
human nature and striking power. 

Albebt Smith (1816-18G0), a native of Chertscy, 
was educated for the medical profession, which he 
abandoned for literature. His Adventures of Mr. 
Ledbury, Christopher Tadpole, Tfte Poppleton 
Legacy, and smaller works, are amusing, and have 
had an extensive circulation. 

Douglas Jeeeold (1803-1757) was a native of 
London, but spent his early life at Sheerness, where 
his father was manager of the theatre. His educa- 
tion was scanty. He went to sea at an early age, 
sailing with Captain Austen, as a midshipman. 
When peace came he lett the navy, and was appren- 
ticed to a printer. It was at this time that his first 
literary production appeared — a criticism upon the 
opera " Der Freischutz." This was followed by a 
number of dramatic pieces, among which Black- 
Eyed Susan was the most celebrated. He now 
became a most industrious writer of plays. Rent 
Day was his crowning success, performed at the 
leading theatres, and obtaining the kindly ni>tice of 
the artist Wilkie, from whose picture it had been 
elaborated. This was followed by The Prisoner of 
War, Tinie works Wonders, The Heart of Gold. 

Contemporaneously with these dramatic writings, 
his prose works were claiming the ear of the public. 
A Man made of Money, The Chronicles of Clover- 
nook, St. Giles's and St. James's, were contributed 
to difterent magazines of the day. Punch fi)und 
him one of its most successful supporters. In this 
paper appeared his Story of a Father, Punch'i 
Letters to his Son, and the Caudle Lectures. 

He took a leading part also in political writings. 
He contributed to the Ballot and the Exa/niner, 
started the weekly newspaper called after his own 
name, and at last undertook the editorship of the 
popular and largely circulated Lloyd's A'ewspaper. 
Douglas Jerrold was best known in the social circle. 
His wit and repartee, his trenchant and mirthful 
sayings, are still remembered and repeated He died 
on the 8th of June, 1657. 



Chap. XXIV.] PROSE LITERATURE. 459 

f . 

CHAPTER XXIV. 

PROSE LITERATURE OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 

j 1. Characteristics of the period. $ 2. Progress of Historical Literature. The 
influence of Niebuhr. § 3. "Writers upon Ancient History. Dr. Arnold. 
Sir George Cornewall Lewis. \ 4. Writers upon Modern History. 
Lord Macaulay. § 5. Henry Hallam. § 6. Theological Literature. 
Robert Hall. John Foster. Thomas Chalmers. $ 7. Philosophical 
Literature. Sir William Hamilton. Archbishop Whately. § 8. 
Physical Science. Hugh Miller. ^ 9. Periodical Literature. The Edin- 
burgh Review. Francis Jeffrey. Sydney Smith. § 10. The Quarterly 
Review. William Gifford. John Gibson Lockhart. § 11. Blackwood's 
Magazine. John Wilson. § 12. Charles Lamb. § 13. Thomas De Quin- 
CEY. $ 14. Political Economy and Jurisprudence. Jeremy Bentham, 

§ 1. In presenting a brief sketch of the prose literature of the pres- 
ent centurj, it will be useful in the first place to obtain some general 
veiw of the period, and to point out the features by which it has been 
marked. Some critics have divided the age into two periods, and on 
a careful consideration of the literature of the century a marked dis- 
tinction will be perceived between the writings of the first genera- 
tion and those of the generation which has just ended. The close of 
the reign of the fourth George will present as near a line of division as 
can be chronologically obtained, and the distinctive features of the first 
thirty years are well marked from those which belong to the period 
succeeding. The early years of this century were years of conflict and 
excitement. The public mind was wrought to the highest pitch, now 
of fear, and now of triumph. England fought for the liberties of Eu- 
rope ; at times the struggle seemed to be for her own existence. The 
literature of a people always reflects something of the prevalent tone 
of its age, and we may therefore expect that the chief compositions of 
the first part of the period will be marked by intense feeling, passion, 
and emotion. Such is the case. A larger amount of the highest 
poetry is to be referred to the first period. There is no age in English 
history which can exhibit such an array of masters of song. The most 
passionate states of the human mind demand an expression in song. 
In the " Victorian age," on the other hand, the prose element has pre- 
dominated. The calmer inquiries into politics, philosophy, art, and 
physical science, have been prosecuted in the more tranquil period, 
and the first noticeable feature in the writers of the present century is the 
growing prevalence of our prose literature. Another distinguishing 
characteristic of the prose of this age is the increasing sphere occupied 
by works of a fictitious character. The present day is, without doubt, 
the day of novels. The works of fiction of past generations have been 
few. Richardson v/as the father of the modern novel, and till recently 



460 PROSE LITERATURE. [Chap. XXIV. 

there have been comparatively few names in fictitious literature that 
deserve remembrance. 

A third feature of the present age is the growth of periodical litera- 
ture. The rise of our leading reviews will be noticed presently, and 
together with these have sprung up the countless magazines and news- 
papers which form the chief part of most men's reading. The Book 
has become too laborious, too tedious a thing for the study of this 
overworked age. We have come to require stimulants in our reading. 
Everybody reads something, and few read much. The result of this 
wide-spread craving for brief and striking compositions must be a weak- 
ening of thought, an impoverishing of ideas, and a supply of what is 
superficial and often crude. 

The chief external influence affecting the literature of the age has 
come from Germany. The study of the language, and the increased 
facilities of communication, have brought vis into close union with that 
country. The thoughts and even style of this philosophical literature 
have done much to shape and regulate English thoughts and language. 
Coleridge introduced it largely, and he has been followed in the work 
by Thomas Carlyle. The place once held by the French has been 
almost usurped by the German. 

Having thus given a general view of the age, we shall proceed to 
sketch more in detail the different portions of our prose literature, with 
brief notices of the most eminent writers. 

§ 2. In no department of literature has Europe made greater progress 
during the present century than in that of History. A new impulse 
was given to the study of Ancient History by the publication of the 
first volume of Niebuhr's Roman History in Germany in 1811. This 
remarkable work taught scholars not only to estimate more accurately 
the value of the original authorities, but to enter more fully into the 
spirit of antiquity, and to think and feel as the Romans felt and thought. 
Previous writers of Ancient History, with the exception of Gibbon, 
had seldom apprehended the ancient world as a living reality; while in 
the use of their authorities they had shown no critical sagacity and no 
appreciation of the value of evidence, quoting equally as of the same im- 
portance the fabulous tales of a late mythographer and the sober state- 
ments of a contemporary writer. In the treatment of Modern History 
the advance has been equally striking. An historical sense, so to speak, 
has grown up. A writer of any period of modern history is now ex- 
pected to produce in support of his facts the testimony of credible con- 
temporary witnesses ; while the public records of most of the great 
European nations, now rendered accessible to students, have imposed 
upon historians a labor, and opened sources of information, quite un- 
known to Hume, Robertson, and the historical writers of the preceding 
century. 

§ 3. The most eminent English writers upon Ancient History are 
Bishop Thirl wall and George Grote, both of whom hav^e produced 
Histories of Greece far superior to any existing in othef European lan- 
guages, but who, as living writers, are excluded from the present work* 



A. D. 1795-1863.] " ^-fi-^<?^^- LEWIS. MACAULAT. 461 

Dr. Thomas Arnold (1795-1842), Head-Master of Rugby School, 
wrote a "History of Rome in three vokimes (1838-40-42), which was 
broken off, by his death, at the end of the Second Punic War. This 
work is chiefly valuable as a popular exhibition of Neibuhr's views, and 
is written in clear and masculine English. Dr. Arnold also published 
some Introductory Lectures on Modern History (1842), which display 
more independence of thought. He was also the author of several 
theological works, which exercised great influence upon his generation. 
The most formidable opponent of Neibuhr's views was Sir George 
CoRNEWALL Lewis (1806-1863), equally remarkable as a statesman 
and a scholar, and whose untimely death the country still mourns. 
He was educated at Eton and Christ Church, Oxford, and, after holding 
the office of Poor-Law Commissioner and other public appointments, 
he became Chancellor of the Exchequer in 1855. Subsequently he was 
Secretary of State for the Home Department, and finally Secretary of 
State for War, which latter office he held at the time of his death (April 
13, 1S63). Sir George Lewis's most important historical work is A?t 
Inquiry into the Credibility of the early Roman History^ published in 
1855. While rejecting with Niebuhr the received narrative of early 
Roman history. Sir George Lewis attacks the defective method adopted 
by the German historian in attempting to reconstruct this portion of 
Roman history. He observes that Niebuhr, " instead of employing 
those tests of credibility which are consistently applied to modern 
history, attempts to guide his judgment by the indications of internal 
evidence, and assumes that the truth can be discovered by an occult 
faculty of historical divination." It would not be within the province 
of the present work to discuss this question ; but it cannot admit of 
doubt that Sir George has rendered an important service to historical 
investigations, and that the principles which he has laid down are in 
the main correct. Sir George Lewis was also the author of many valu- 
able political works, of which the most important are A Treatise on the 
Method of Observation and Reasoning in Politics^ the Influence of Au- 
thority in Matters of Opinioti.) and the Use and Abuse of Political 
Terms. 

§ 4. The most illustrious recent writer upon modern history is 
Thomas Bablngton Macaulay (1800-1859), born October 25, i8oa 
He was the son of Zachary Macaulay, an ardent philanthropist, and 
one of the earliest opponents of the slave trade. Educated at Trinity 
College, Cambridge, of which College he became a Fellow, and called 
to the bar at Lincoln's Inn, he suddenly achieved a literary reputation 
by an article on Milton in the Edinburgh Review in 1825. This was 
the first of a long series of brilliant literary and historical essays which 
he contributed to the same periodical. He entered Parliament in ^1830, 
and was almost immediately acknowledged to be one of the first orators 
in the House. He went to India in 1834 as a Member of the Council 
in Calcutta and as President of the Law Commission. Soon after his 
return he was elected by the city of Edinburgh as their representative" 
in Parliament (1840), and became successively Secretary at War and 
39* 



462 PROSE LITERATURE. [Chap. XXIV. 

Paymaster of the Forces. He lost his election in 1847, in consequence 
of opposing the religious prejudices of his constituents, and from this 
time he devoted all his powers to the undivided cultivation of letteis. 
Although he sat in Parliament again from 1852 to 1856, he took little 
part in the debates of the House. He was raised to the peerage in 
1S57, ^"<^ <^ied on December 28, 1859. 

Macaulay is distinguished as a Poet, an Essayist, and an Historian. 
His Lays of Ancietit Rome are the best known of his poems; but the 
lines which he wrote upon his defeat at Edinburgh in 1847, and in 
which he turns for consolation to literature, are, in our judgment, the 
finest of all his poetical pieces. His Essays and his History will, in 
virtue of their inimitable style, always give Macaulay a high place 
among English classics. His style has been well characterized by a 
friendly but discerning critic: "It was eminently his own, but his 
own not by strange words, or strange collocation of words, by phrases 
of perpetual occurrence, or the straining after original and striking 
terms of expression. Its characteristics were vigor and animation, 
copiousness, clearness, above all sound English, now a rare excellence. 
The vigor and life were unabating; perhaps in that conscious strength 
which cost no exertion he did not always gauge and measure the force 
of his own words. Those who studied the progress of his writing 
might perhaps see that the full stream, though it never stagnated, 
might at first overflow its banks ; in later days it ran with a more direct, 
undivided torrent. His copiousness had nothing tumid, diffuse, Asiatic ; 
no ornament for the sake of ornament. As to its clearness, one may 
read a sentence of Macaulay twice to judge of its full force, never to 
comprehend its meaning. His English was pure, both in idiom and in 
words, pure to fastidiousness ; not that he discarded, or did not make 
free use of the plainest and most homely terms (he had a sovereign 
contempt for what is called the dignity of history, which would keep 
itself above the vulgar tongue), but every word must be genuine Eng- 
lish, nothing that approached real vulgarity, nothing that had not the 
stamp of popular use, or the authority of sound English writers, 
nothing unfamiliar to the common ear." * 

Macaulay's Essays are philosophica' and historical disquisitions, 
embracing a vast range of subjects ; but the larger number and the most 
important relate to English History. These Essays, however, were 
only preparatory to his great work on the History of England^ which 
he had int&nded to write from the accession of James II. to the time 
immediately preceding the French Revolution. But of this subject he 
lived to complete only a portion. The two first volumes, published in 
1849, contain the reign of James II. and the Revolution of 1688; two 
more, which appeared in 1855, bring down the reign of William III. to 
the peace of Ryswick in 1697; while a fifth, published in 1861, after the 
author's death, nearly completes the history of that reign. Macaulay, 
in a Review of Sir James Mackintosh's History of the Revolution^ 
observed that " a History of England, written throughout in this man- 

* Dean Milmau's Memoir of Lord Macaulay, p. 22. 



A. D. 1777-1859.] ffENRY HALLAM. 463 

ner, would be the most fascinating book in the language. It would be 
more in request at the circulating libraries than the last novel." The 
unexampled popularity of Macaulaj's own History verified the predic- 
tion. In a still earlier Essay he had remarked that we had good 
historical romances and good historical essays, but no good histories ; 
and it cannot be denied that he has, to a great extent, attained his ideal 
of a perfect history, which he defines to be " a compound of poetry and 
philosophy, impressing general rules on the mind by a vivid representa- 
tion of particular characters and incidents." 

§ 5. The other great writer on modern history in the present century, 
superior in judgment to Macaulay, though inferior in graces of style, 
is Henry Hallam (1777-1859). He was born at Windsor, July 9, 1777, 
the only son of a Canon of Windsor and Dean of Wells. He was 
educated at Eton and Christ Church, Oxford, and practised at the baf 
for a few years ; but having an ample income, which was augmented by 
his being appointed one of the Commissioners of Audit, he withdrew 
from the profession of the law, and devoted himself entirely to literature. 
He was one of the early contributors to the Edinburgh Revteiv, and 
his criticism in that Journal in 1808 of Sir Walter Scott's edition of 
Dryden's works was marked by that power of discrimination and im- 
partial judgment which characterized all his subsequent writings. As 
one of the Edinburgh Reviewers, he was pilloried by Lord Byron — 

" And classic Hallam, much renowned for Greek." 

Mr. Hallam was an excellent classical scholar; and to his knowledge 
of antiquity he added an accurate and profound acquaintance with the 
language, literature, history, and institutions of the chief nations of 
modern Europe. The result of his long-continued studies first appeared 
fully in his View of the State of Europe during the Middle Ages, pub- 
lished in 1818, and exhibiting, in a series of historical dissertations, a 
comprehensive survey of the chief circumstances that can interest 
a philosophical inquirer during the period usually denominated the 
Middle Ages. Mr. Hallam's next work was The Constitutional History 
of England from the Accession of Henry VII. to the Death of George 
II, published in 1827; and his third great production was An Introduc- 
tion to the Literature of Europe in the Fifteenth, Sixteenth, and 
Seventeenth Centuries, which appeared in 1837-9. ^'"' Hallam's latter 
years were saddened by the loss of his two sons, the eldest of whom 
formed the subject of Tennyson's /// Memoriam, The historian himself 
died January 21, 1859. 

An estimate of Hallam's literary merits has been given by Macaulay, 
his illustrious contemporary, in a review of the Constitutional History: 
*'Mr. Hallam is, on the whole, far better qualified than any other wri- 
ter of our time for the ofiice which he has undertaken. He has great 
industry and great acuteness. His knowledge is extensive, various, and 
profound. His mind is equally distinguished by the amplitude of its 
grasp and by the delicacy of its tact. His speculations have none of 
that vagueness which is the common fault of political philosophy. On 



464 PROSE LITERATURE. [Chap. XXIV. 

the contrary, they are strikingly practical, and teach us not only the 
general rule, but the mode of applying it to solve particular cases. In 
this respect they often remind us of the Discourses of Machiavelli. 
The manner of the book is, on the whole, not unworthy of the matter. 
The language, even when most faulty, is weighty and massive, and 
indicates strong sense in every line. It often rises to an eloquence, not 
florid or impassioned, but high, grave, and sober; such as would become 
a State paper, or a judgment delivered by a great magistrate, a Somers 
or a D'Aguesseau. In this respect the character of Mr. Hallam's 
mind corresponds strikingly with that of his style. His work is emi- 
nently judicial. The whole spirit is that of the bench, not that of the 
bar. He sums up with a calm, steady impartiality, turning neither to 
the right nor to the left, glossing over nothing, exaggerating nothing, 
while the advocates on both sides are alternately biting their lips to 
hear their conflicting misstatements and sophisms exposed. On a gen- 
eral survey, we do not scruple to pronounce the Constitutional History 
the most impartial book that we have ever read." 

§ 6. The theological and religious literature of this age is marked 
by a less metaphysical character than that of former times. Works of 
a controversial kind have been fewer, while greater attention has been 
paid to exegetical studies. The practical and homiletical works have 
been very numerous. The array of Sermons which the last sixty years 
have seen published is appalling, and if the good accomplished has 
been proportioned to the number of tracts and sermons issued, there 
must certainly have been an effect which should cheer the believer in 
human progress. Space forbids even a mention of the Societies whose 
special work is the publication of religious literature, of which many 
were founded in the present century, and all have received their great- 
est success in the present age. Many of the best known religious 
writers have won their chief literary honors in the other fields of crit- 
icism, history, or philosoph}^, and will receive notice there. The three 
most distinguished theological writers are perhaps Hall, Foster, and 
Chalmers. 

Robert Hall (1764-1831) was born at Arnsby, near Leicester, the 
son of a Baptist minister of that place. After studying first at a dis- 
senting academy at Bristol, and afterwards at Aberdeen, he became a 
minister successively of the Baptist Churches at Bristol, Cambridge, 
and Leicester, and finally at Bristol for a second time, where he died, 
February 21, 1831. Mr. Hall was without doubt the "prince of mod- 
ern preachers." With his eloquence and fervor were united a scholar- 
ship and intellectual vigor not often found in the pulpit. His st^ le 
was chaste, polished, and refined. His great sermons were on Modern 
Infidelity (1799), Reflections on War (1802), and The Sentiments f rop- 
er to the present Crisis (1803). 

John Foster (1770-1843), like his friend Robert Hall, was a minister 
among the Baptists, but was never celebrated as a preacher, though his 
writings, in the form of literary and religious essays, are among the 
most valuable additions to English literature. In his Essays the 



A. D. 1780-1847.] THOMAS CHALMERS. 465 

energy and force of the thought are only equalled by the beauty of the 
expression. There is a manly tone about everything he wrote. With 
less impassioned eloquence than Hall, he has more intellectual vigor. 

Thomas Chalmers (1780-1847) was born at Anstruther, Fifeshire, 
and educated for the Scotch Church at the University of St. Andrew's. 
In 1803 he became minister at Kilmany, whence in 1815 he removed to 
St. John's, Glasgow. In 1823 he was appointed Professor of Moral 
Philosophy at St. Andrew's, and in 1828 Professor of Divinity at Edin- 
burgh. In 1843 he headed the secession from the Scotch Church, and 
remained the most eminent of the Free Church ministers until his 
death in 1847. I" the pulpit Chalmers reigned supreme. Though his 
manner was rough, and his accent broadly Scotch, the impassioned 
earnestness, the thorough abandon, of the preacher overcame these 
drawbacks, and enabled him to thrill his audience with something of 
the emotion which possessed himself. His writings embrace a great 
variety of subjects, and all are treated ably by his capacious intellect; 
but he is not the leader of a school. He established no great princi- 
ple. He added nothing to divinity, science, or philosophy. He shone 
not with the blaze of the meteor, or the self-radiance of a sun, but he 
was the brightest star amongst the other constellations that shone 
around him. His style was incorrect and often awkward, but there is 
at times a grandeur of language that hears away the most fastidious 
'critic. The hold he took of a subject was like the grip of a bulldog. 
He never let it go. He turned it this side and that, holding it up in 
every light, adorning it with every fancy and illustration. It stood 
forth before the hearer or reader as clearly as before the preacher or 
writer. 

§ 7. In philosophy a large number of contributions to our literature 
has been made during the period under our consideration. Though 
perhaps there has been but little original speculation, and no great dis- 
covery in mental science, the investigation of metaphysical phenomena 
has been profound and accurate. Philosophy has not passed through 
a crisis, but it has made a brilliant and yet secure advance. The scope 
of this work forbids a notice of living writers ; otherwise we might refer 
to some names, such as Whewell and Mill, whose analysis and 
investigations, more especially in the systems of inductive science, have 
had none to compare with thdhi since the great work of Bacon, while 
in the more direct examination of mental phenomena the Scotch 
school has had some of its ablest members in the present era, and the 
materialist schools of diiferent color have found their strongest advo- 
cates and expounders in writers, many of whom are still living. The 
influence of Germany has been felt in no department of our literature 
so greatly as here. The followers of Reid owe no little to the writings 
of Kant, while the idealists of England have borrowed no little of the 
truth they hold from the profound though the very obscure speculations 
of Hegel. The study of logic in England proper has been revived 
almost within our own memory, and the once-neglected studies have 
emerged fron: their misapprehei sion and obloquy, and are rapidly 



466 PROSE LITERATURE, [Chap. XXIV. 

gaining in the universities their proper position abreast of classics and 
mathematics. 

Sir William Hamilton (1788-1856), the son of Dr. Hamilton of 
Glasgow, was educated at Oxford, and called to the bar in 1813. He 
became Professor of Universal History at Edinburgh in 1821, and in 
1836 obtained the Chair of Logic and Metaphysics, which he occupied 
until his death. His chief works were essays in the Edinburgh Re- 
view, collected as Discussions on Philosophy, &c. (1852), and An Edition 
of Rcid, ivitk Dissertations. His Lectures have been published since 
his death, under the editorship of Mr. Mansel and Mr. Veitch. Sir 
William Hamilton was without doubt the greatest philosopher of his 
age. He founded his system on consciousness, following Reid more than 
any other master, and guiding his speculations by Aristotle and Kant. 
This is not the place for a discussion of his philosophical views ; but he 
has done much, perhaps more than any other English writer, to raise 
philosophical studies in this country. His style is a model of philo- 
sophical writing. It is clear, capacious, and appropriate. It neither 
perplexes by technicalities nor misleads by figure and illustration. It 
has been well said of his diction that it fills others with the " desire and 
despair of writing like a philosopher." 

Archbishop Whately (1787-1863), the son of Dr. Whately of Non- 
such Park, Surrey, was born 91 London, and educated at Oriel College, 
Oxford. Having entered the Church, he became Rector of Halesworth 
in 1822, Principal of St. Alban's Hall in 1825, then Professor of Polit- 
ical Economy, and in 1831 was raised to the archiepiscopal see of 
Dublin. His first publications were, in 1821, three sermons on the 
Christianas Duty with respect to the Government, followed by his Bamp- 
ton Lectures ; and, in 1826 and 1828, by his Logic and Rhetoric. To 
enumerate all the publications of this diligent writer would not be pos- 
sible in this sketch. The chief were his essays on Neiv Testament 
Difficulties (1828), the Sabbath, and Romanism, which were produced 
together two years later. His lectures on Political Economy appeared 
in 1831 ; and later he published other works on social and economical 
questions. 

Whately had a mind of great logical power, with little imagination 
or fancy. His clear, unanswerable arguments produce conviction in 
his readers. He says of himself that he was personally of no influence 
among men ; but he was able so conclusively to exhibit his processes of 
reasoning and arguments, that he produced a great impression upon 
the circles which they affected. His views of questions are often shal- 
low, but always practical. His style is luminous, easy, and well adorned 
with every-day illustrations. A moralist of much higher tone than 
Paley, — which fact arose from the general spirit of his time, — he is 
the best representative of Paley in the present age. He is, as Paley 
was, clear rather than profound, vigorous rather than subtle; with 
little speculation he unites much practical sense. 

§ 8. A very important portion of modern literature embraces those 
subjects which have reference to physical science. Our forefathers were 



A. D. 1802-1856.] HUGH MILLER. 467 

more satisfied with reasons than with facts. The aim of modern inves- 
tigators is to discover what is hidden in nature, rather than, bj a course 
of deductive reasoning from pre-established principles, to display what 
ought to be found in nature. The inductive method of Bacon has 
never been so carefully applied and diligently followed as in the scien- 
tific researches of the nineteenth century; and the advance of physical 
science has therefore been more rapid than that of any other branch 
of human knowledge. The greatest writers on phj^sical science are 
still alive; and many of them will deserve a place in English literature 
on account of the style of their writings, such as Herschel, Lyell, 
Faraday, Owen, and Huxley. One of the most popular, who has 
died within the last few years, was Hugh Miller (1S02-1856), the 
eminent geologist. He spent the early portion of his life in the quar- 
ries of his native towp of Cromarty in the north of Scotland, but by 
self-study and diligent application he rose from manual to mental labor; 
and after a few publications — Poems, &c. (1829), Letters on the Her- 
ring Fishery, &c. — he became editor of the Witness, a bi-weekly 
newspaper. He had meantime devoted himself to geology; and in 
1841 appeared his Old Red Sandstone, and in 1850 another geological 
work, entitled Footpriyits of the Creator. He published an autobiog- 
raphy, in 1854, My Schools and Schoolmasters ; and since his death 
there have appeared The Cruise of the Betsy, a Summer Ramble among 
the Fossiliferous Deposits of the Hebrides (1858), and Lectures on 
Geology, delivered before the Philosophical Institution at Edinburgh. 
There is no writer who has done more for the spread of geological 
knowledge than Hugh Miller. His earnest, manly spirit, his lively 
style, and his religious character, won him a hearing in his native land 
among every rank and condition in society. His Testimony of the 
Rocks, completed but not published during his life, is full of some of 
the most poetic and eloquent passages in the English language. 

§ 9. No review is here required of the fictitious literature of the age, 
as that has already been treated at length in the preceding chapter. 
We therefore now pass on to the most important and most extensive 
of the prose writings of the nineteenth century, — namely, those which 
are for the most part found scattered in magazines and serials,, and 
which embrace the critical essays and other compositions on social, 
political, and moral subjects. The increased facilities of printing and 
a larger class of readers have combined to render the " periodicals " 
the great feature of the age. These range from the valuable quarter- 
lies, through the various forms of magazine and review, down to the 
daily paper, the peculiar feature of the literature of the times. Some 
of the most valuable of our essays have been contributed to these maga- 
zines. Every shade of politics, every school of philosophy, every sect 
of religion, has its paper or its magazine. The events of the day, the 
deliberations and acts of the government, the condition of society, the 
progress of commerce, the works of art, and the discoveries of science, 
are thus placed under constant and Argus-eyed surveillance. Perhaps 
the cheap daily paper is the wonder of the age. What a marvel of 



468 PROSE LITERATURE, [Chap. XXIV. 

literary skill is the Times ! and very little inferior are the other chief 
newspapers. No feature is so striking in this class of writings as the 
real worth and ability displayed in many of the articles of the periodi- 
cals. The criticism of the day shows a great improvement in concep- 
tion and views upon those of past generations. To give a history of 
all these periodicals is of course impossible, but the establishment of 
the EdinbtirgJt and Quarterly Reviews imparted such an impulse to 
literature as to demand a few words. 

The Edi7iburgk Revierv was established in i8o2 by a small party of 
young men, obscure at that time, but ambitious and enterprising, wha 
were all destined to attain a high degree of distinction. It founded its 
claim to success upon the boldness and vivacity of its tone, its total 
rejection of all precedent and authority, and the audacity with which 
it discussed questions previously held to be " hedged in " with the 
" divinity " of prescription. The Edinburgh was an absolute literary 
Fronde; and its founders — Brougham, Jeffrey, Sydney Smith, Francis 
Horner — were soon convinced that they had not erred in calculating 
upon an extraordinary degree of success. The criticisms (many of 
which were retrospective, that is, discussing the merits of past eras in 
the history and literature of England and other countries) were marked 
by a singular boldness and pungency; and in contemporary and local 
subjects the Review exhibited a power and extent of vision which made 
its appearance an era in journalism. It was conducted from i8o3 to 
1829 by Francis Jeffrey (1773-1850), a Scotch advocate, who was 
subsequently raised to the bench. He wrote a large number of critical 
articles, marked by good taste and discrimination, the most important 
of which were republished by him in a collected form in 1844. Another 
of the most important of the early contributors to the Review, and who 
indeed edited the first number, was Sydney Smith (1771-1845), an 
English clergyman, and in the later period of his life Canon of St. 
Paul's. He wrote chiefly upon political and practical questions with a 
richness of comic humor, and an irresistible dry sarcasm, employed 
generally in exhaustive reasoning — in the reductio ad absurdum — 
which is not only exquisitely amusing, but is full of solid truth as well 
as pleasantry. 

§ 10. The influence which the Edinburgh Reviezv soon acquired was 
exercised in favor of political principles opposed to those of the existing 
administration ; and its authority in matters of literature and taste 
became almost paramount. Under these circumstances the late Mr. 
Murray, after consulting Mr. Canning and other distinguished politi- 
cians and men of letters, determined in 1809 to start a new review to 
counteract the danger of those liberal opinions which seemed to be 
menacing the very integrity of the Constitution. This new periodical, 
which was called The Quarterly Review, was warmly welcomed by 
the friends of the government, and immediately obtained a literary 
reputation at least equal to that of the Edinburgh. The editorship of 
it was intrusted to William Gifford (1757-1826), the translator of 
Juvenal (1802), and the author of the Baviad {I'jg^) and Mceviad (1795)1 



A. D. 1794-1854.] GIFFORD LOCKHART, WILSON, 469 

two of the most bitter, powerful, and resistless literary satires which 
modern days have produced. Gift'ord was a self-taught man, who had 
raised himself, by dint of almost superhuman exertions and admirable 
integrity, to a high place among the literary men of his age. Distin- 
guished as a satirist, as a translator of satires, and as the editor of 
several of the illustrious but somewhat neglected dramatists of the 
Elizabethan age, his writings, admirable for sincerity, good sense, and 
learning, were also strongly tinged with bitterness and personality. 

Gifford was succeeded in the editorship of the Quarterly, after a 
short interregnum, by John Gibson Lockhart (1794-1S54), a man of 
undoubted genius, the author of several novels which have been already 
mentioned, and one of the earliest and ablest contributors to Black- 
■wood's Magazine. He was born in 1794, in Lanarkshire, and was edu- 
cated at Oxford, where he took a first class in classics. He possessed a 
clear, penetrating intellect, and under his editorship, which continued 
from 1826 to 1853, the reputation of the Quarterly was not only main- 
tained, but augmented. Many of the ablest articles were written by 
himself; and those which combine the biography and criticism of dis- 
tinguished authors are unsurpassed by anything of the kind in the 
English language. In 1820 he married the eldest daughter of Sir Wal- 
ter Scott, and in 1837-39 he published the charming life of his father- 
in-law. In biography he was unrivalled ; and his Life of Napoleon^ 
which appeared without his name, is far superior to many more ambi- 
tious performances. 

§ 11. The same reasons which led to the establishment of the Quar- 
terly Review in London, induced another enterprising publisher tc 
start, in the city in which the Edinburgh Review exercised undivided 
sway, a periodical which might serve as an organ of Toryism in Scot- 
land. Blackwood'' s Magazine first appeared in 1817, and was distin- 
guished by the ability of its purely literary articles, as well as by the 
violence of its political sentiments. Among the many able men who 
wrote for it, two stood pre-eminent, John Wilson and John Gibson 
Lockhart. Of the latter we have already spoken in connection with 
the Quarterly Review ; the former, upon whom fell the chief burden 
of the magazine after Lockhart's removal to London, must not be dis- 
missed without a short notice. John Wilson (i 785-1854) was born in 
Paisley, May 18, 1785, the son of a wealthy merchant. After studying 
at Oxford, he took up his abode on the banks of the Windermere, 
attracted thither by the society of Worsdworth, Southey, Coleridge, and 
other eminent men. Wilson was an ardent admirer of Word vorth, 
whose style he adopted, to some extent, in his own poems, the Isle of 
Palms (1812), and The City after the Plague (1816). The year before 
the publication of the latter poem, Wilson had been compelled, by the 
loss of his fortune, to remove to Edinburgh, and to adopt literature aS a 
profession. Though Mr. Blackwood was the editor of his own maga- 
zine, Wilson was the presiding spirit, and under the name of Christo- 
pher North and other pseudonymes, he poured forth article after article 
with exuberant fertility. His Noctes Ambrosiance, in which politics, 



470 PROSE LITERATURE. [Chap. XXIV. 

literary criticism, and fun, were intermingled, enjoyed extraordinary 
popularity. His novels likewise were eagerly read (see p. 450). In 
1820 he was elected Professor of Moral Philosophy at Edinburgh. He 
died April 2, 1854. ** With respect to Wilson's merits as a writer, a 
variety of judgments will be formed. His poetry can never, in our 
opinion, take a foremost place among English classics. His prose tales, 
Lights and Shadows of Scottish Life, The Trials of Margaret Lindsay, 
The Foresters, &c., had their day. Probably no man, living or dead, 
could have written them except himself, yet we doubt whether they will 
find many readers a dozen years hence. Of his criticism, likewise, 
we are constrained to observe that it is at all times the decision of an 
impulsive rather than of a judicial mind. But far above all his contem- 
poraries, and, indeed, above writers of the same class in anj' age, he 
soars as a rhapsodist. As Christopher North, by the loch, or on the 
moors, or at Ambrose's, he is the most gifted. and extraordinary being 
that ever wielded pen. We can compare him, when such fits are on, to 
nothing more aptly than to a huge Newfoundland dog, the most per- 
fect of its kind ; or, better still, to the ' Beautiful leopard from the 
valley of the palm-trees,' which, in sheer wantonness and without any 
settled purpose, throws itself into a thousand attitudes, always aston- 
ishing and often singularly graceful." * 

§ 12. It would be impossible in our limits to give an account of the 
many other writers who distinguished themselves by their contributions 
to the Reviews and Magazines ; but in addition to those already men- 
tioned two essayists stand forth pre-eminent — Charles Lamb and 
Thomas de Quincey. 

Charles Lamb (1775-1834) is one of the most admirable of those 
hntnorisis who form the peculiar feature of the literature, as the ideas 
they express are the peculiar distinction of the character, of the Eng- 
lish people. He was born February 18, 1775, in the Temple, where 
his father was clerk to one of the Benchers, and was educated at Christ's 
Hospital. He was essentially a Lo?idoner : London life supplied him 
with his richest materials; and yet his mind was so imbued, so satu- 
rated with our older writers, that he is original by the mere force of 
self-transformation into the spirit of the older literature : he was, in 
short, an old writer, who lived by accident a century or two after his 
real time. Wordsworth is peculiarly the poet of solitary rural nature; 
Lamb drew an inspiration as true, as delicate, as profound, from the 
city life in which he lived ; and from which he never was for a moment 
removed but with pain and a yearning to come back. In him the 
organ of locality must have been enormously developed : " his house- 
hold gods planted a terribly fixed foot, and were not to be rooted up 
without blood." During the early and greater part of his life, Lamb, 
poor and unfriended, was drudging as a clerk in the India House; and 
it was not till late in life that he was unchained from the desk. Yet in 
this, the most monotonous and unideal of all employments, he found 

* Quarterly Review^ No. 225, p. 240. 



A. D. 1775-1834.] CHARLES LAMB. 471 

means to fill his mind with the finest aroma of oUiT older authors ; par- 
ticularly of the prose writers and dramatists of the sixteenth and 
seventeenth centuries : and in his earliest compositions, sucl^ as the dra- 
ma of yohn Woodvil, and subsequently in the Essays of Elta, although 
the world at first perceived a mere imitation of their quaintness of ex- 
pression, there was, in reality, a revival of their very spirit. The 
Essays of Elia, contributed by him at different times to the London 
Magazine^ are the finest things, for humor, taste, penetration, and 
vivacity, which have appeared since the days of Montaigne. Where 
shall we find such intense delicacy of feeling, such unimaginable hap- 
piness of expression, such a searching into the very body of truth, as 
in these unpretending compositions.? A chance word, dropped half by 
accident, a parenthesis, an exclamation, often let us into the very 
mechanism of the sentiment — admit us, as it were, behind the scenes. 
The style has a peculiar and most subtle charm ; not the result of labor, 
for it is found in as great perfection in his familiar letters — a certain 
quaintness and antiquity, not affected in Lamb, but the natural garb 
of his thoughts. This arises partly from the saturation of his mind 
with the rich and solid reading in which he delighted ; and partly, but 
in a much higher degree, from the sensibility of his mind. The 
manure was abundant, but the soil was also of a " Sicilian fruitfulness." 
As in all the true humorists, his pleasantry was inseparably allied with 
the finest pathos : the merry quip on the tongue was but the commen- 
tary on the tear which tembled in the eye. He possessed the power, 
which is seen in Shakspeare's Fools, of conveying a deep philosophical 
verity in a jest — of uniting the wildest merriment with the truest 
pathos and the deepest wisdom. It is not only the easy laugh of 
Touchstone in the forest of Arden, but the heart-rending pleasantry 
of Lear's Fool in the storm. The inspiration that other poets find in 
the mountains, in the forest, in the sea, Lamb could draw from the 
crowd of Fleet Street, from the remembrances of an old actor, from 
the benchers of the Temple. In his poems, also, so few in number 
and so admirable in originality, we have the quintessence of familiar 
sentiment, expressed in the diction of Herbert, Wither, and the great 
dramatists. 

Lamb was the schoolfellow, the devoted admirer and friend, of Cole- 
ridge ; and perhaps there never was an individual so loved by all his 
contemporaries, by men of every opinion, of every shade of literary, 
political, and religious sentiment, as this great wit and amiable man. 
The passionate enemy of everything like cant, commonplace, or con- 
ventionality, his writings derive a singular charm, a kind of fresh and 
wild flavor, from his ;-^elight in paradox. The man himself was full of 
paradox : and his punning repartees, delivered with all the pangs 
of stuttering, often contained a decisive and unanswerable settlement 
of the question. In his drama of fohn Woodvil he endeavored to 
revive the forms of the Elizabethan drama; and the work might be 
mistaken for some woodland play of Heywood or Shirley. But it was 



47-2 PROSE LITERATURE. [Chap. XXIV. 

his Specimens of the Old English Dramatists which showed what 
treasures of the richest poetry lay concealed in the unpublished, and in 
modern timgs unknown, writers of that wonderful age, whose fame had 
been eclipsed by the glory of some two or three names of the same 
period. In the few lines, often only the few words, of criticism in 
which Lamb sketched the characters of the dramatists (with whose 
writings, from the greatest to the least, from Shakspeare down to 
Broome or Tourneur, no man was ever more familiar), we see perpetual 
examples of the delicacy and penetra:ion of his critical faculty. 

Lamb's mind, in its sensitiveness, in its mixture of wit and pathos, 
was eminently Shakspearian ; and his intense and reverent study of the 
works of Shakspeare doubtless gave a tendency to this : the glow of his 
humor was too pure and steady not to have been reflected from the sun. 
In his poems, as for instance the Fareivellto Tobacco^ the Old Familiar 
Faces^ and his few but beautiful sonnets, we find the very essence and 
spirit of this quaint tenderness of fancy, the simplicity of the child 
mingled with the learning of the scholar. 

Among the Essays of Elia are several little narratives, generally 
visions and parables, inexpressibly simple and beautiful. The one 
named Dream-Children, and another entitled The Child- Angel, are 
worthy of Jean Paul himself: while the little tale Rosamond Gray is 
perhaps one of the most inimitable gems ever produced in that difficult 
stj'le. 

§ 13. Perhaps the greatest master of English prose in the present 
century, not excepting even Macaulay, is Thomas De Quincey (1785- 
1859). ^^ "^^^ born of wealthy parents near Manchester, August 15, 
1785, and in his Confessions of an English Opium- Eater he has left us 
an extraordinary account of his early life, in which, however, there is 
<51early a mixture of Dichtung a7id Wahrheit. As an undergraduate at 
Oxford, he was remarkable for his extraordinary stock of knowledge 
upon every subject that was started in conversation ; but even at that 
period he had commenced taking large doses of opium. After leaving 
Oxford he settled at Grasmere, but resided during the latter part of his 
life at Glasgow and Edinburgh. He died December 8, 1859. Upon 
De Quincey's position in the literature of the present day an able critic 
observes, " De Quincey's mind never wholly recovered from the 
effects of his eighteen years' indulgence in opium. He himself says, 
half jocularly, but apparently quite truly, that it is characteristic of the 
opium-eater never to finish anything. He himself never finished any- 
thing, except his sentences, which are models of elaborate workmanship. 
But many of his essays are literally fragments, while those which are 
not generally convey the impression of being mere prolegomena to 
some far greater work of which he had formed the conception only. 
Throughout his volumes, moreover, we find allusions to writings which 
have never seen the daylight. And finally, there is The Great Ufi- 
finished, the De Emendatiotie Humani Intellectus, to which he had at 
one time devoted the labor of his whole life. It is, in fact, th one half* 



A..D. 1748-1S32.] DE QUINCEY. BENTHAM. 473 

melancholy reflection which his career suggests, that a man so capable 
as he was of exercising a powerful influence for good upon the political 
and religious thought of the present age, should have comparatively 
wasted his opportunities, and left us his most precious ideas in the con- 
dition of the Sibyl's leaves after they had been scattered by the wind. 
Hence those who approach him with any serious purpose are only too 
likely to come away disappointed. It is, therefore, rather on his style, 
at once complex and harmonious, at once powerful and polished, than 
on the substance of his works, that his posthumous fame will be depen- 
dent. The extraordinary compass and unique beauty of his diction, 
accommodating itself without an effort to the highest flights of imagi- 
nation, to the minutest subtleties of reasoning, and to the gayest 
vagaries of humor, are by themselves indeed a sure pledge of a long if 
not undying reputation."* 

De Quincey's writings have been collected in fourteen volumes. The 
best known is the Confessions of an English Opium-Eater^ published 
in 1821, in which the language frequently soars to astonishing heights 
of eloquence. Of his historical essays and narratives, the finest is 
his Flight of the Kalmuck Tartars, which is equal, in many passages, 
to the English Opium-Eater. His literary criticisms, both upon Eng- 
lish and German writers, are very numerous, but cannot be further 
noticed here. Some of his essays are almost exclusively humorous, 
among which Murder considered as one of the Fine Arts is the best 
known. The critic whom we have already quoted, thus sums up De 
Quincey's literary merits: "A great master of English composition; 
a critic of uncommon delicacy; an honest and unflinching investigator 
of received opinions ; a philosophic inquirer, second only to his first 
and sole hero (Coleridge), — De Quincey has left no successor to his 
rank. The exquisite finish of his style, with the scholastic rigor of his 
logic, forms a combination which centuries may never reproduce, but 
which every generation should study as one of the marvels of English 
literature." 

§ 14. One of the studies peculiar to the present century has been 
that of political economy. Adam Smith has been well called the cre- 
ator of the science, and his followers in the present age have exercised 
no small influence in moulding the character of public opinion and in 
controlling the course of public events. Ricardo, Senior, Macul- 
LOCH, and Mill are writers whose place in a history of literature would 
perhaps be small, but whose influence on politics and commerce have 
been so great, that it would be a serious omission not to call the atten- 
tion of the student to their works. The most important writer upon 
ethics, jurisprudence, and political economy is undoubtedly Jeremy 
Bentham (1748-1832). He was the son of a solicitor in London, was 
educated at Oxford, and called to the bar, Wut did not pursue it as a 
profession. For half a century Bentham was the centre of a small but 
influential circle of philosophical writers, and was the founder of what 

* Quarterly Review, No. 219, pp. 15, 16. 
40* 



474 



NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. [Chap. XXIV. 



is called the utilitarian school. In one of his earliest works he laid 
down the principle that '* utility' was the measure and test of all vir- 
tue ; " and the fundamental principle of his philosophy was, that hap- 
piness is the end and test of Jill morality. It is, however, as a writer 
on jurisprudence that his fame rests ; and almost all the improvements 
in English law that have since been carried into effect may be traced, 
either directly or indirectly, to his exertions. 



NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 



OTHER PROSE WRITERS OF THE NINE- 
TEENTH CENTURY. 

William Wilberfoece (176»-1833) was bora at 
Hull, and educated at Cambridge. He took a lead- 
ing part in Parliament for the abolition of the Slave- 
trade, and deserves a notice in English literature on 
account of his Practical View of Christianity, pub- 
lished in 1797, which had an immense sale, and 
exercised throughout the earlier part of the nine- 
teenth century a great influence upon religious 
literature. 

Sib James Mackintosh (1765-1832) was born at 
Aldourie, on Loch Ness, Inverness-shire, October 
24, 1765, and was educated at the Universities of 
Aberdeen and Edinburgh, for the medical profes- 
sion ; but he soon abandoned medicine, and main- 
tained himself by literature in London. In 1791 he 
published his Vindicise Oallicce, a reply to Burke 
on the French Revolution, a work which at once 
gained him a great reputation. In 1795 he was 
called to the bar, and four years afterwards he deliv- 
ered, with great applause, in the hall of Lincoln's 
Inn, his lectures On the Law of Nature and Nations. 
He rose rapidly at the bar ; and his speech in de- 
fence of Peltier (February 21, 1803), who had been 
prosecuted for a libel on Bonaparte, then First Con- 
sul, placed him among the great orators of the age. 
In 1804 he was appointed Recorder of Bombay ; and 
after spending seven years in India he returned to 
England, was made a Privy Councillor, and in 1830 
Commissioner for the Affairs of India. He died 
May 22, 1832. His principal works are, a Disserta- 
tion on Ethical Philosophy, jircAxed to the seventh 
edition of the Encyclopmdia Britannica; three 
volumes of a History of England ; a L\fe of Sir 
nomas More, in Lardner's Cyclopaedia; and a 
fragment of a History of the Revolution of 1688, 
which was published in 1834. Everything which 
Sir James Mackintosh has written is pleasing, but 
nothing striking ; and in a few years more his writ- 
ings will probably be forgotten. 

William Hazlttt (1778-1830), son of a Unita- 
rian minister, was born at Maidstone, April 10, 
1778, was educated as an artist, but lived by litera- 
ture. He was one of the best critics in the earlier 
part of this century. His paradoxes are a little 
■tartling, and sometimes lead him astray ; but there 



is a delicacy of taste, a richness of imagination, and 
a perceptive power, that make him a worthy second 
to De Quincey. His style is vivid and picturesque, 
and his evolutions of character are clear. His chief 
works are Principles of Human Action, Character* 
of Shalspeare's Plays, Table Talk, Lectures on 
various authors. Essays on English novelists in the 
Edinburgh'&nd a Life of Napoleon in four volumes. 

William Cobbett (1762-1835) was a native of 
Farnham in Suffolk. From an agricultural laborer 
he became a soldier, then a writer on political ques- 
tions, and finally member of Parliament for Old- 
ham. In his paper, called The Weekly Register, he 
attacked all sides with rancor and bitterness. Hie 
English is forcible and idiomatic. He published 
several other works, of which his English Grammai 
most deserves mention. 

John Wilson Cbokek (1780-1857), bom in Gal- 
way, December 20, 1780, and educated at Trinity 
College, Dublin. He entered Parliament, and held 
the office of Secretary to the Admiralty from 1809 to 
1830. He was one of the chief writers in the Qunr- 
terly Review. His Essays on the French Revolution^ 
which originally appeared in that Review, have 
been republished in a separate form, and exhibit a 
remarkable knowledge of that period of history. 
His principal work is an edition of Boswell's Life 
of Johnson, which was criticised most severely, but 
most un^irly, by Macaulay, in the Edinburgh 
Review. Croker also edited the Suffolk Papers, 
Lady Hervey's Letters, Lord Hervey's Memoirs of 
the Reign of George IL, and Walpole's Letters to 
Lord Hertford. 

The following historians deserve a brief notice : — 

James Mill (1773-ia36), a native of Montrose, 
rose to eminence as a writer in the leading periodi- 
cals of his time. His History of British India ( 1817- 
1818) is written with great impartiality, and pro- 
cured for the author a place in the India House. 
The Analysis of the Mind is a useful contribution to 
mental science, and has done much to illustrate the 
principle of association as one of the first general 
laws of mind. 

Db. John Gillies (1747-1836) was born at Brechin 
in the county of Forfar, Scotland, and succeeded 
Dr. Robfertson as Historiographer Royal for Scot- 
land. He published several historical works, of 
which his History of Greece is the best known. 



Chap. XXIV.] NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 



475 



William Mitfori) (1744-1827), born in London 
February 10, 1744, was the eldest son of a country 
gentleman in Hampshire. He became captain in 
the same regiment of militia in which Gibbon was 
then major; and the conversation of the latter prob- 
ably strengthened in him the determination to be- 
come himself an historian. His History of Oreece, 
though grossly unjust to the great leaders of the 
Athenian democracy, had no smaU merits, and was 
far superior to that of Gillies, though it is now en- 
tirely superseded by the works of Thirlwall and 
Grote. 

Rev. William Coxe (1747-1828), Archdeacon 
of Wilts, wrote several works on various periods of 
modem history, such as the History of the House of 
Austria, History of the Kings of Spain of the House 
of Bourbon, Memoirs of the Dtcke of Marlborough, 
Sir Robert Walpole, &c. These works may still be 
consulted with advantage. 

Sharon TUBNER (1768-1847), a solicitor in Lon- 
don, wrote the History of the Anglo-Saxons, upon 
which his reputation chiefly rests. He continued 
tlie history of England down to the death of Eliza- 
beth. He also published a Sacred History of the 
World. 

Db. John Lingabd (1771-1859) was bom at 
Winchester, and entered the Roman Catholic 
Church. His principal work ia a Bietory of Bm§- 



land from the earliest times to 1688. He also wrote 
Antiquities of the Anglo-Saxon Church (1809). 
Though his History is a valuable addition to our 
historical literature, he has allowed his religious 
views to color his conclusions as an historian, and 
slightly warp his judgment. 

Patrick Fbaser Tytlee (1791-1849), born at 
Edinburgh, August 30, 1791, was the son of ALEX- 
ANDER Frasee Tttler (1747-1813), the author of 
Elements of General History, a work which ha» 
gone through several editions. The son has written 
the best Histoi-y of Scotland in the English lan- 
guage. 

Sib William Napiee (1785-1860), bom at Cel- 
bridgc, in the county of Kildare, Ireland, was a 
distinguished officer in the Peninsular war, but 
deserves mention here on account of his History of 
the War in the Peninsula and the South of France 
from the year 1807 to the year 1814, which is unques- 
tionably the best military history in the English 
language. He had a thorough knowledge of the art 
of war, had been present in many of the scenes 
which he describes, and, possessing a lively imagi- 
nation and great command of lajiguage, he brings 
the events vividly before the mind of the reader. 
This is his great work ; but he also wrote a Historp 
of Sir Charles Napier's Administration of , 
a Life of Sir Charka Napier, tx. 



SKETCH OF AMERICAN LITERATIJEE. 



CHAPTER I. 

Literature in the Colonies imitative. Relation of American to English Litera- 
ture. Gradual Advancement of the United States in Letters. Their fiijit 
Development theological. "Writers in this Department. Jonathan Ed- 
wards. Religious Controversy. William E. Channing. "Writings of the 
Clergy. Newspapers and School Books. Domestic Literature. Female 
"Writers. Oratory. Revolutionary Eloquence. American Orators. Alex- 
ander Hamilton. Daniel Webster and others. Edward Everett. 
American History and Historians. Jared Sparks. David Ramsay. 
George Bancroft. Hildreth. Elliot. Lossino. "William H. Pres- 
cott. Irving. "Wheaton. Cooper. Parkman. 

Literature is a positive element of civilized life ; but in different 
countries and epochs it exists sometimes as a passive taste or means of 
culture, and at others as a development of productive tendencies. The 
first is the usual form in colonial societies, where the habit of looking 
to the fatherland for intellectual nutriment as well as political authority 
is the natural result even of patriotic feeling. The circumstances, too, 
of young communities, like those of the individual, are unfavorable to 
original literary production. Life is too absorbing to be recorded other- 
wise than in statistics. The wants of the hour and the exigencies of 
practical responsibility wholly engage the mind. Half a century ago, 
it was usual to sneer in England at the literary pretensions of America; 
but the ridicule was quite as unphilosophical as unjust, for it was to be 
expected that the new settlements would find their chief mental sub- 
sistence in the rich heritage of British literature, endeared to them by 
a community of language, political sentiment, and historical association. 
And when a few of the busy denizens of a new republic ventured to 
give expression to their thoughts, it was equally natural that the spirit 
and the principles of their ancestral literature should reappear. Scenery, 
border-life, the vicinity of the aborigines, and a great political experi- 
ment were the only novel features in the new world upon which to 
found anticipations of originality; in academic culture, habitual read- 
ing, moral and domestic tastes, and cast of mind, the Americans were 
identified with the mother country, and, in all essential particulars, 

(i77) 



478 4 SKETCH OF - [Chap. I. 

would naturally follow the itjle thus inherent in their natures and con- 
firmed by habit and study. At first, therefore, the literary development 
of the United States was imitative ; but with the progress of the coun- 
try, and her increased leisure and means of education, the writings of 
the people became more and more characteristic; theological and polit • 
ical occasions gradually ceased to be the exclusive moulds of thought; 
and didactic, romantic, and picturesque compositions appeared from 
time to time. Irving peopled "Sleepy Hollow" with fanciful crea- 
tions ; Bryant described not only with truth and grace, but with devo 
tional sentiment, the characteristic scenes of his native land ; Coopei 
introduced Europeans to the wonders of her forest and sea-coast; Ban- 
croft made her story eloquent ; and Webster proved that the race of 
orators who once roused her children to freedom was not extinct. The 
names of Edwards and Franklin were echoed abroad ; the bonds of 
mental dependence were gradually loosened; the inherited tastes 
remained, but they were freshened with a more native zest; and 
although Brocli^en Brown is still compared to Godwin, Irving to 
Addison, Cooper to Scott, Hoffman to Moore, Emerson to Carlyle, 
and Holmes to Pope, a characteristic vein, an individuality of thought, 
and a local significance is now generally recognized in the emanations 
of the American mind; and the best of them rank favorably and har- 
moniously with similar exemplars in British literature ; while, in a few 
instances, the nationality is so marked, and so sanctioned by true 
genius, as to challenge the recognition of all impartial and able critics. 
The majority, however, of our authors are men of talent rather than 
of genius; the greater part of the literature of the country has sprung 
from New England, and is therefore, as a general rule, too unimpas- 
sioned and coldly elegant for popular effect. There have been a lamenta- 
ble want of self-reliance, and an obstinate blindness to the worth of 
native material, both scenic, historical, and social. The great defect 
of our literature has been a lack of independence, and too exclusive a 
deference to hackneyed models ; there has been, and is, no deficiency of 
intellectual life; it has thus far, however, often proved too diffusive 
and conventional for great results. 

The intellect of the country first developed in a theological form. 
This was a natural consequence of emigration, induced by difference 
of religious opinion, the free scope which the new colonies afforded for 
discussion, and the variety of creeds represented by the different races 
who thus met on a common soil, including every diversity of sentiment, 
from Puritanism to Episcopacy, each extreme modified by shades of 
doctrine and individual speculation. The clergy, also, were the best 
educated and most influential class : in political and social as well as 
religious affairs, their voice had a controlling power; and, for a con- 
siderable period, they alone enjoyed that frequent immunity from 
physical labor which is requisite to mental productiveness. The colo- 
nial era, therefore, boasted only a theological literature, for the most 
part fugitive and controversial, yet sometimes taking a more perma- 
nent shape, as in the Biblical Concordance of Newman, and some of 



Chap. I.] AMERICAN LITERATURE. 479 

the writings of Roger Williams, Increase and Cotton Mather, Maj- 
hew. Cooper, Stiles, Dwight, Elliot, Johnson, Chauncey, Witherspoon, 
and Hopkins. There is no want of learning or reasoning power in 
many of the tracts of those once formidable disputants ; and such read- 
ing accorded with the stern tastes of our ancestors ; but, as a general 
rule, the specimens which yet remain in print are now only referred to 
by the curious student of divinity or the antiquarian. One enduring 
relic, however, of this epoch survives, and is held in great estimation 
by metaphysicians for its subtlety of argument, its originality and vigor, 
and masterly treatment of a profound subject. I allude to the celebrated 
Treatise on the Will, by Dr. Edwards, a work originally undertaken to 
furnish a philosophical basis for the Calvinistic dogmas, and, in its 
sagacious hardihood of thought, forming a characteristic introduction 
to the literary history of New England. 

Jonathan Edwards was the only son of a Connecticut minister of 
good acquirements and sincere piety. He was born in 1703, in the town 
of Windsor; he entered Yale College at the age of thirteen, and at 
nineteen became a settled preacher in New York. In 1723 he was 
elected a tutor in the college at New Haven ; and after discharging its 
duties with eminent success for two years, he became the colleague of 
his grandfather, in the ministry, at the beautiful village of Northamp- 
ton, in Massachusetts. Relieved from all material cares by the affection 
of his wife, his time was entirely given to professional occupations and 
study. An ancient elm is yet designated in the town where he passed 
so many years, in the crotch of which was his favorite seat, where he 
was accustomed to read and think for hours together. His sermons 
began to attract attention, and several were republished in England. 
As a writer, he first gained celebrity by a treatise on Original Sin. 
He was inaugurated President of Princeton College, N. J., on the i6th 
of February, 1785; and on the 22d of the ensuing March died of small- 
pox, which then ravaged the vicinity. 

"This remarkable man," says Sir James Mackintosh, "the meta- 
physician of America, was formed among the Calvinists of New Eng- 
land, when their stern doctrine retained its vigorous authority. His 
power of subtle argument, perhaps unmatched, certainly unsurpassed 
among men, was joined, as in some of the ancient mystics, with a 
character which raised his piety to fervor. He embraced their doc- 
trine, probably without knowing it to be theirs. Had he suffered this 
noble principle to take the right road to all its fair consequences, he 
would have entirely concurred with Plato, with Shaftesbury and Male- 
branche, in devotion to ' the first good, first perfect, and first fair.' 
But he thought it necessary afterwards to limit his doctrine to his own 
persuasion, by denying that such moral excellence could be discovered 
in divine things by those Christians who did not take the same view 
with him of their religion." * 

Although so meagre a result, as far as regards permanent litei'ature, 
sprang from the early theological writings in America, they had a cer» 

♦ Progress of Ethical Philosophy. 



480 A SKETCn OF [Chap. L 

tain strength and earnestness which tended to invigorate and exercise 
the minds of the people ; sometimes, indeed, conducive to bigotry, but 
often inciting reflective habits. The mental life of the colonists seemed, 
for a long time, identical with religious discussion ; and the names of 
Anne Hutchinson, Ro^er Williams, George Fox, Whitefield, the early 
field-preacher, and subsequently those of Dr. Hopkins, and Murray, the 
father of Universalism in America, were rallying words for logical 
warfare : the struggle between the advocates of Quakerism, baptism by 
immersion, and other of the minority against those of the old Presby- 
terian and Church of England doctrine, gave birth to a multitude of 
tracts, sermons, and oral debates which elicited no little acumen, 
rhetoric, and learning. The originality and productiveness of the 
American mind in this department have, indeed, always been charac- 
teristic features in its development. Scholars and orators of distin- 
guished ability have never been wanting to the clerical profession 
among us ; and every sect in the land has its illustrious interpreters, 
who have bequeathed, or still contribute, written memorials of theii 
ability. Davies, Bellamy, Robinson, Stuart, Tappan, Williams, Bishop 
White, Dr. Jarvis, Dr. Hawks, Hooker, Cheever, and others, have 
materially adorned the literature of the church; the diversity of sects 
is one of the most curious and striking facts in our social history, and 
is fully illustrated by the literary organs of each denomination, from 
the spiritual commentaries of Bush to the ardent Catholicism of 
Brownson.* About the commencement of the present century, a 
memorable conflict took place between the liberal and orthodox party; 
and among the writings of the former may be found more finished 
specimens of composition than had previously appeared on ethics and 
religion. Independent of their opinions, the high morality and beau 
tiful sentiment, as well as chaste and graceful diction, of the leaders 
of that school, gave a literary value and interest to pulpit eloquence 
which soon exercised a marked influence on the literary taste of the 
community. Religious and moral writings now derived from style 
a new interest. At the head of this class, who achieved a world- 
wide reputation for genius in ethical literature, is William Ellery 
Channing. 

" Haifa century ago, there might have been seen, threading the streets 
of Richmond, a diminutive figure, with a pale, attenuated face, eyes of 
spiritual brightness, an expansive and calm brow, and movements of 
nervous alacrity. An abstraction of mafiner and intentness of expres- 
sion denoted the scholar, while the scrupulously neat yet worn attire 
as clearly evidenced restricted means and habits of self-denial. The youth 

* The clergy have been among the prominent laborers in the field of useful 
literature. The names of Dehon, Payson, Potter, Abbott, Bedell, Knox, Todd, 
Woods, Sprague, Baird, Barnes, Alexander, Tyng, Bacon, Stuart, Bushnell, 
Beecher, Coxe, Croswell, Hudson, Shelton, Spencer, of the Orthodox and the 
Episcopal denomination, and of Buckminster, William and Henry Ware, Dewey, 
Whitman, Osgood, Greenwood, Frothingham, Brooks, Furness, Hedge, Clarkv, 
Hale, W. H. Channing, Peabody, Stetson, and many others of the Unitarian, ara 
identified with current educational and religious literature. 



Chap. I.] AMERICAN LITERATURE. 481 

was one of those children of New England, braced by her discipline, 
and early sent forth to earn a position in the world by force of charac- 
ter and activity of intellect. He was baptized into the fraternity of 
Nature by the grandeur and beauty of the sea as jt breaks along the 
craggy shore of Rhode Island ; the domestic influences of a Puritan 
household had initiated him into the moral convictions ; and the teach- 
ings of Harvard yielded him the requisite attainments to discharge 
the officv' of private tutor in a wealthy Virginian family. Then and there, 
far from :he companions of his studies and the home of his childhood, 
through secret conflicts, devoted application to books, and meditation, 
amid privations, comparative isolation, and premature responsibility, 
he resolved to consecrate himself to the Christian ministry. Illness had 
subdued his elasticity, care shadowed his dreams, and retirement sol- 
emnized his desires. Thence he went to Boston, and for more than 
forty years pursued the consistent tenor of his way as an eloquent 
divine and powerful writer, achieving a wide renown, bequeathing a 
venerated memory, and a series of discourses, reviews, and essays, 
which, with remai'kable perspicuity and earnestness, vindicate 'the cause 
of freedom, the original endowments and eternal destiny of human 
nature, the sanctions of religion, and * the ways of God to man.' Secta- 
rian controversy, the duties of the pastoral office, journeys abroad and 
at home, intercourse wfth superior minds and the seclusion made neces- 
sary by disease, — the quiet of home, the refining influence of literary 
taste, and the vocations of citizen, father, and philanthropist, occupied 
those intervening years. He died, one beautiful October evening, at 
Bennington, Vermont, while on a summer excursion, and was buried 
at Mount Auburn. A monument commemorates the gratitude of his 
parishioners and the exalted estimation he had acquired in the world. 
A biography prepared by his nephew recounts the few incidents of his 
career, and gracefully unfolds the process of his growth and mental 
history. 

" It is seldom that ethical writings interest the multitude. The ab- 
stract nature of the topics they discuss, and the formal style in which 
they are usually embodied, are equally destitute of that popular charm 
that wins the common heart. A remarkable exception is presented in 
the literary remains of Channing. The simple yet comprehensive ideas 
upon which he dwells, the tranquil gravity of his utterance, and the 
winning clearness of his style, render many of his productions univei*- 
sally attractive as examples of quiet and persuasive eloquence. And 
this result is entirely independent of any sympathy with his theological 
opinions, or experience of his pulpit oratory. Indeed, the genuine 
interest of Dr. Channing's writings is ethical. As the champion of a 
sect, his labors have but a temporary value ; as the exponent of a doc- 
trinal system, he will not long be remembered with gratitude, because the 
world is daily better appreciating the religious sentiment as of infinitely 
more value than any dogma; but as a moral essayist, some of the more 
finished writings of Channing will have a permanent hold upon reflec- 
tive and tasteful minds. His nephew has compiled his biography with 
41 



482 A SKETCH OF [Chap. I. 

singular judgment. He has followed the method of Lockhart in the 
Z^i/e of Scott. As far as possible, the narrative is woven from letters 
and diaries, — the subject speaks for himself, and only such intermedi- 
ate observations of the editor are given as are necessary to form a con- 
nected whole. Uneventful as these memoirs are, they are interesting as 
revelations of the process of culture, the means and purposes of one 
whose words have winged their way, bearing emphatic messages, over 
both hemispheres, — who, for many years, successfully advocated im- 
portant truths, and whose memory is one of the most honored of New 
England's gifted divines. 

"To Dr. Channing's style is, in a great degree, ascribable the popu- 
larity of his writings ; and we are struck with its remarkable identity 
from the earliest to the latest period of his career. A petition to Con- 
gress, penned while a student at the University, which appears in these 
volumes, has all its prominent characteristics — its brief sentences, occa- 
sionally lengthened where the idea requires it — its emphasis, its sim- 
plicity, directness, and transparent diction. This is a curious evidence 
of the purely meditative existence he must have passed ; for it is by 
attrition with other minds and subjection to varied influences, that the 
style of writing as well as the tone of manners undergoes those striking 
modifications which we perceive in men less intent upon a few thoughts. 
His character is, therefore, justly described as more indebted to ' the in- 
fluences of solitary thought than of companionship.' Such is the process 
by which all truth becomes clearly impressed and richly developed to 
consciousness ; on the same principle that, according to Mary Wollstone- 
craft, reflection is necessary to the realization even of a great passion. 
' I derive my sentiments from the nature of man,' says one of Chan- 
ning's letters. Perhaps it would have been more strictly true if he had 
said one man ; for an inference we long ago derived from his writings, 
we find amply confirmed in his memoirs — that he was a very inade- 
quate observer. Some of his attempts to portray character are as com- 
plete fancy sketches as we ever perused. They show an utter blindness 
to the real traits even of familiar persons. Beautiful in themselves, it 
is usually from the graceful drapery of his imagination that the charm 
is derived. Indeed, Dr. Channing hardly came near enough to see the 
features in their literal significance. He drew almost exclusively from 
within. His subjects were what the lay-figure is to the artist — frames 
for his thoughts to deck with eftective costume. When he reasoned of 
a truth or an idea, he was more at home ; for in the abstract he was at 
liberty to expatiate, without keeping in view the actual relations of 
things — the stern facts and bare realities of life and character. Indeed, 
nothing can be more delightful to a refined and thoughtful mind, than 
to follow Channing in his exposition of a striking idea or truth — so 
clearly and dispassionately stated, then gradually unfolded to its ulti- 
mate significance, with, here and there, a striking illustration ; and then 
wound up, like a fine strain of music, v/hich seems to raise us more and 
more into light ar\d tranquillity on invisible pinions ! " * 

* Characteristics of Literature. First Scries. 



Chap. I.] AMERICAN LITERATURE. 488 

Of all the foreign commentators on our political instifutions and 
national character, De Tocqueville is the most distinguished for 43hil- 
osophical insight; and although many of his speculations are vision- 
ary, not a few are pregnant with reflective wisdom. He says in regard 
to the literary development of such a republic as our own, that its early 
fruits *' will bear marks of an untutored and rude vigor of thought, 
frequently of great variety and singular fecundity." What may be 
termed the casual writing and speaking of the country, confirms this 
prophecy. The two most prolific branches of literature in America 
are journalism and educational works. The aim in both is to supply 
that immediate demand which, according to the French philosopher, is 
more imperative and prevailing than in monarchical lands. Newspa* 
pers and school-books are, therefore, the characteristic form of litera- 
ture in the United States. The greatest scholars of the country have 
not deemed the production of the latter an unworthy labor, nor the 
most active, enterprising, and ambitious failed to exercise their best 
powers in the former sphere. An intelligent foreigner, therefore, who 
observed the predominance of these two departments, would arrive at 
the just conclusion, that the great mental distinction of the nation is 
twofold — the universality of education and a general, though super- 
ficial intellectual activity in the mass of the people. There is, how- 
ever, still another phase of our literary condition equally significant; 
and that is the popularity of what may be termed domestic reading — a 
species of books intended for the family, and designed to teach science, 
religion, morality, the love of nature, and other desirable acquisitions. 
These works range from a juvenile to a mature scope and interest, both 
in form and spirit, but are equally free of all extravagance, — except it 
be purely imaginative, — and are unexceptionable, often elevated, in 
moral tone. They constitute the literature of the fireside, and give to 
the young their primary ideas of the world and of life. Hence theii 
moral importance can scarcely be overrated. Accordingly, children's 
books have not been thought unworthy the care of the best minds : 
philosophers like Guizot, poets like Hans Andersen, popular novelists 
like Scott and Dickens, have not scorned this apparently humble but 
most influential service. The reform in books for the young was com- 
menced in England by Maria Edgeworth and Mrs. Barbauld, when the 
Parents^ Assistant and Original Poems for Infant Minds superseded 
Mot/ier Goose and fack the Giant- Killer ; and with the instinct of 
domestic utility so prevalent on this side of the water, this impulse 
was caught up and prolonged here, and resulted in a class of books 
and writers, not marked by high genius or striking originality, yet 
honorable to the good sense and moral feeling of the country. These 
have supplied the countless homes scattered over the western continent 
with innocent, instructive, and often refined reading, sometimes instinct 
not only with a domestic but a national spirit; often abounding with 
the most fresh and true pictures of scenery, customs, and local traits, 
and usually conceived in a tone of gentleniss and purity fitted to chas- 
ten and improve the taste. These writers have usually adapted them- 



484 A SKETCH OF [Chap. I. 

selves equally to the jouMgest and to the most advanced of the family 
circlet^ extended their labor of love from the child's story-book to the 
domestic novel.* 

Oratory is eminently the literature of republics. Political freedom 
gives both occasion and impulse to thought on public interests ; and its 
expression is a requisite accomplishment to every intelligent and patri- 
otic citizen. American eloquence, although not unknown in the pro- 
fessional spheres of colonial life, developed with originality and rich- 
ness at the epoch of the revolution. Indeed, the questions that agitated 
the country naturally induced popular discussions, and as a sense of 
wrong and a resolve to maintain the rights of fi'eemen, took the place 
of remonstrance and argument, a race of orators seems to have sprung 
to life, whose chief traits continue evident in a long and illustrious roll 
of names, identified with our statesmen, legislators, and divines. From 
the stripling Hamilton, who, in July, 1774, held a vast concourse in 
breathless excitement, in the fields near New York, while he demon- 
strated the right and necessity of resistance to British oppression, to 
the mature Webster, who, in December, 1829, defended the union of the 
states with an argumentative and rhetorical power ever memorable in 
the annals of legislation, there has been a series of remarkable public 
speakers who have nobly illustrated this branch of liter.ature in the 
United States. The fame of American eloquence is in part tradition- 
ary. Warren, Adams, and Otis in Boston, and Patrick Henry in Vir- 
ginia, by their spirit-stirring appeals, roused the land to the assertion 
and defence of its just rights; and Alexander Hamilton, Gouverneur 
Morris, Pinckney, Jay, Rutledge, and other firm and gifted men gave 
wise and effective direction to the power thus evoked, by their logical 
and earnest appeals. 

"At the time the contest began," saj^s Guizot, " there were in each 
colony some men already honored by their fellow-citizens, already well 
known in the defence of public liberty, influential by their property, 
talent, or character; faithful to ancient virtues, yet friendly to modern 
improvement; sensible to the splendid advantages of civilization, and 
yet attached to simplicity of manners; high-toned in their feelings, but 
of modest minds, at the same time ambitious and prudent in their pa- 
triotic impulses." Foremost among these remarkable men was Alex- 
ander Hamilton; by birth a West Indian, by descent uniting the 

* It is creditable to the sex that this sphere has been filled, in our country, 
chiefly by female •writers, the list of whom includes a long array of endeared 
and honored names, at the head of which stands Hannah Adams, with her 
once popular histories, Catharine M. Sedgwick, with her moral and graphic 
illustrations of New England life, and Lydia M. Child, with her poetic and 
generous suggestiveness. Among others may be mentioned Mrs. Lydia H. 
Sigourney, Miss Leslie, sister of the artist, Eliza Robbins, Mrs. Gilman, of 
Charleston, S. C, Mrs. Lee, of Boston, Mrs. E. Oakes Smith, Miss Beecher, 
Mrs. Kirkland, Mrs. Ellett, Mrs. Stowe, Miss Prescott, Miss Coles, Julia Ward 
Howe, Mrs. S. J. Hale, and such noms de plume as Fanny Forrester, Grace 
Greenwood, and Gail Hamilton ; also Mrs. Embury, of Brooklyn, L. I., Miss 
Mcintosh, Mrs. Neal, Alice Carey, Mrs. Farrar, Mrs. Willard, Mrs. Hall, and 
Miss Wetherell. 



Chap. I.] AMERICAN LITERATURE. 485 

Scottish vigor and sagacity of character with the accomplishment of 
the French. While a collegian in New York, his talents, at once ver- 
satile and brilliant, were apparent in the insight and poetry of his 
debates, the solemn beauty of his devotion, the serious argument of 
his ambitious labors, and th? readiness of his humorous sallies; with 
genuine religious sentiment, born perhaps of his Huguenot blood, he 
united a zest for pleasure, a mercurial temperament, and grave aspira- 
tions. In his first youth the gentleman, the pietist, the hero, and the 
statesman alternately exhibited, sometimes dazzled, at others impressed, 
and always won the hearts of his comrades. His first public demon- 
stration was as an orator, when but seventeen ; and notwithstanding 
his slender figure and extreme youth, he took captive both the reason 
and feeling of a popular assembly. Shortly after he became involved 
in the controversy then raging between Whigs and Tories; and his 
pamphlets and newspaper essays were read with mingled admiration 
and incredulity at the rare powers of expression and mature judgment 
thus displayed by the juvenile antagonist of bishops and statesmen. 
But his arm not less than his tongue was dedicated to the cause he thus 
espoused with equal ardor and intelligence. He studied the military 
art, gained Washington's notice in the retreat of the American forces 
through New Jersey, and from that moment became his intimate coad- 
jutor. His next intellectual labor was devoted to explaining and en- 
forcing the principles of finance — a subject of which his countrymen 
were practically ignorant. To his zeal and sagacity in this department, 
combined with the noble efforts of Robert Morris, the country was 
indebted for the pecuniary means of carrying on the war of the revo- 
lution, and finally for a regulated currency and established credit. 

As first secretary of the treasury, Hamilton may be said to have 
laid the foundation of our national prosperity. His mind, even at a 
period most burdened with official cares, was given to the successful 
advocacy of a neutral course in regard to France; after honorable ser- 
vice attaining the rank of lieutenant-general, when the army disbanded, 
Hamilton resumed the legal profession. The idol of the Federal party, 
and a candidate for the chief magistracy, he became entangled in a 
duel planned by political animosity, and fell at Weehawken, opposite 
the city of New York, by the hand of Aaron Burr, on the eleventh of 
July, 1804. The impression caused by his untimely death was unpre- 
cedented in this country; for no public man ever stood forth " so clear 
in his great office," more essentially useful in affairs, courageous in 
battle, loyal in attachment, gifted in mind, or graceful in manner. 
During a life of such varied and absorbing occupation, he found time 
to p»t on record his principles as a statesman : not always highly fin- 
ished, his writings are full of sense and energy; their tone is noble, 
their insight often deep, and the wisdom they display remarkable. His 
letters are finely characteristic, his state papers valuable, and the Fed- 
eralist a significant illustration both of his genius and the age.* 

* No small part of the political ^vriting of the United States is fugitive in its 
character; but the state papers, including the correspondence of the chief actors 
41* 



486 A SKETCH OF [Chap. I. 

The historical and literary anniversaries of such frequent occurrence 
in this country, and the exigencies of political life, give occasion for 
the exercise of oratory to educated citizens of all professions — from 
the statesman who fills the gaze of the world, to the village pastor and 
country a<lvocate. Accordingly, a large and, on the whole, remarkably 
creditable body of discourses, emanating from the best minds of the 
country, have been published in collected editions, to such an extent as 
to constitute a decided feature of American literature. They are char- 
acteristic also as indicating the popular shape into which intellectual 
labors naturally run in a young and free country, and the fugitive and 
occasional literary efforts which alone are practicable for the majority 
even of scholars. The most solid of this class of writings are the pro- 
ductions of statesmen ; and of these, three are conspicuous, although 
singularly diverse both in style and cast of thought — Webster, Cal- 
houn, and Clay. The former's oration at Plymouth in 1820; his ad- 
dress at the laying of the corner-stone of the Bunker Hill Monument, 
half a century after the battle ; his discourse on the deaths of Adams 
and Jefferson, the following year ; and his reply to Hayne, in the U. S. 
Senate, in 1829, are memorable specimens of oratory, and recognized 
everywhere as among the greatest instances of genius in this branch 
of letters in modern times. These are, however, but a very small part 
of his speeches and forensic arguments, which constitute a permanent 
and characteristic, as well as intrinsically valuable and interesting por- 
tion of our native literarure. 

Daniel Webster was the son of a New Hampshire farmer. He was 
born in 1782, graduated at Dartmouth College, and began the practice 
of law at a village near Salisbury, his birthplace, but removed to Ports- 
mouth in 1807. He soon distinguished himself at the bar, and as a 
member of the House of Representatives ; retired from Congress and 
removed to Boston in 1817; and by his able arguments in the Supreme 
Court, as well as his unrivalled eloquence on special occasions, was 
very soon acknowledged to be one of the greatest men America had 
produced. His career as a senator, a foreign minister, and secretary 
of state, has been no less illustrious than his professional triumphs; 
but, as far as literature is concerned, he will be remembered by his 
state papers and speeches. His style is remarkable for great clearness 
of statement. It is singularly emphatic. It is impressive rather than 
brilliant, and occasionally rises to absolute grandeur. It is evidently 
formed on the highest English models ; and the reader conjectures his 
love of Milton from the noble simplicity of his language, and fondness 

in the revolutionary war, and the adoption of the Constitution, form a mine of 
political ideas and principles. After these, the speeches of the leading statesmen 
contain, in themselves, a history of the political opinions and crises of the nation ; 
and an armory of logical weapons, of more or less value, may easily be drawn 
from the works of Franklin, Hamilton, Morris, Jay, Quincy, Dickinson, Paine, 
John and Samuel Adams, Jefferson, Madison, Livingston, Ames, Freneaii, Noah 
Webster, Rawle, William Sullivan, Leggett, and other political essayists. The 
Federalist, the joint production of Hamilton, Madison, and Jay, is a standard 
book of this class. 



Chap. I.] AMERICAN IITERATURE. 457 

for sublime rather than apt figures. Clearness of statement, vigor of 
reasoning, and a faculty of making a question plain to the understand- 
ing by the mere terms in which it is presented, are the traits which 
uniformly distinguish his writings, evident alike in a diplomatic note, 
a legislative debate, and an historical discourse. His dignity of ex- 
pression, breadth of view, and force of thought, realize the ideal of a 
republican statesman, in regard, at least, to natural endowments; and 
his presence and manner, in the prime of his life, were analogous. 
Independent of their logical and rhetorical merit, these writings may 
be deemed invaluable from the nationality of their tone and spirit. 
They awaken patriotic reflection and sentiment, and are better adapted 
to warn, to enlighten, and to cheer the consciousness of the citizen, 
than any American works, of a didactic kind, yet produced. 

In the speeches of Clay there is a chivalric freshness which readily 
explains his great popularity as a man ': not so profound as Webster, 
he is far more rhetorical, and equally patriotic. Calhoun was eminently 
sophistical, but his mind had that precise energy which is so eflfoctual 
in debate ; his style of argument is concise ; and in personal aspect hei 
was quite as remarkable — the incarnation of intense purpose and keen 
perception. These and many other eminent men have admirably illus- 
trated that department of oratory which belongs to statesmen. 

Fisher Ames, William Wirt, John Qj-iincy Adams, Hugh S. 
Legare, and others, famed as debaters, have united to this distinction 
the renown of able rhetoricians on literary and historical occasions ; 
and to these we may add the names of Verplanck, Chief Justice Story, 
Chancellor Kent, Rufus Choate, Randolph, Winthrop, Burgess, 
Preston, Benton, Prentiss, Bethune, Bushnell, Dewey, Birney, Hill- 
house, Sprague, Wayland, A. H. Everett, Horace Binney, Dr. Francis, 
Sumner, Whipple, Hillard, and other authors of occasional addresses, 
having, by their scope of thought or beauty of style, a permanent 
literary value. The most voluminous writer in this department, how- 
ever, is Edward Everett. His two large and elegant volumes not 
bnly exhibit the finest specimens of rhetorical writing, but they 
more truly represent the cultivated American mind in literature than 
any single work with which we are acquainted. Oratory has always 
flourished in republics : it is a form of intellectual development to 
which free political institutions give both scope and inspiration; and 
we hesitate not to declare that Edward Everett's Orations are as pure 
in style, as able in statement, and as authentic as expressions of popular 
history, feeling, and opinion in a finished and elegant shape, as were 
those of Demosthenes and Cicero in their day. Let not the frequency 
of public addresses, and the ephemeral character they so often possess, 
blind our countrj'^men to the permanent and intrinsic merits of these 
Orations. Thej' embody the results of long and faithful research into 
the most important facts of our history; they give " a local habitation 
and a name " to the most patriotic associations ; their subjects, not less 
than their sentiments, are thoroughly national ; not a page but glows 
Hkith the most intelligent love of country, nor a figure, description, or 



488 A SKETCH OF [Chap. L 

appeal but what bears evidence of scholarship, taste, and just senti- 
ment. If a highlj-cultivated foreigner were to ask us to point him to 
any single work which would justly inform him of the spirit of our 
institutions and history, and, at the same time, afford an adequate idea 
of our present degree of culture, we should confidently designate these 
Orations. The great battles of the revolution, the sufferings and prin- 
ciples of the early colonists, the characters of our leading statesmen, 
the progress of arts, sciences, and education among us — all those great 
interests which are characteristic to the philosopher, of a nation's 
life — are here expounded, now by important facts, now by eloquent 
illustrations, and again in the form of impressive and graceful com- 
ments. History, essays, descriptive sketches, biographical data, pic- 
turesque detail, and general principles, are all blent together with a 
tact, a distinctness, a felicity of expression, and a unity of style unex- 
ampled in this species of writing. Mr. Everett has made the art of 
oratory his peculiar study : again and again his beautiful elocution has 
charmed audiences composed of the most intelligent and fairest of our 
citizens. Many of these occasions have a traditional renown. Indeed, 
whoever has heard one of these addresses delivered has enjoyed a 
memorable gratification ; not one of them but has to every true Amer- 
ican heart and mind a sterling value, as well as an enduring fascination. 
They include the most salient points in our annals; they consecrate 
the memories of some of the noblest spirits who have blessed our coun- 
try; they celebrate events hallowed by results which, at this hour, are 
agitating the world ; and all these attractions are independent of the 
rare and invaluable literary merit which distinguishes them. No public 
or private library should be without them ; the old should grow familiar 
with their pages to keep alive the glow of enlightened patriotism ; and 
the 3'oung to learn a wise love of country and the graces of refined 
scholarship. 

There is no branch of literature that can be cultivated in a republic 
with more advantage to the reader, and satisfaction to the author, than 
^ History. Untrammelled by proscription, and unawed by political 
; authority, the annalist may trace the events of the past, and connect 
them, by philosophical analogy, with the tendencies of the present, free 
to impart the glow of honest conviction to his record, to analyze the 
conduct of leaders, the theory of parties, and the significance of events. 
The facts, too, of our history are comparatively recent. It is not 
requisite to conjure up fabulous traditions or explore the dim regions 
of antiquity. From her origin the nation was civilized. A backward 
glance at the state of Europe, the causes of emigration, and the stan- 
dard of political and social advancement at the epoch of the first colonies 
in North America, is all that we need to start intelligently upon the 
track of our country's marvellous growth, and brief, though eventful 
career. There are relations, however, both to the past and future, 
;■ which render American history the iiiasL_su^gestive episode in the 
I annals of the world, and give it a universal as well as special dignity. 
To those who chiefly value facts as illustrative of principles, and see in 



Chap. I.] AMERICAN LITERATURE, 489 

the course of events the grand problem of humanity, the occurrences in 
the New World, from its discovery to the present hour, offer a compre- 
hensive interest unrecognized by those who only regard details. Justly 
interpreted, the liberty and progress of mankind, illustrated by the 
history of the United States, are but the practical demonstration of 
principles which the noblest spirits of England advocated with their 
pens, and often sealed with their blood. It is as lineal descendants, in 
the love of freedom and humanity, of Milton, Locke, and Sidney, that 
the intelligent votaries of American liberty should be considered. It is 
easy to trace in the municipal regulations the tone of society, and in 
the press of the colonists a recognition of and familiarity with the 
responsibilities and progressive tendency of liberal institutions. Their 
minds were fed upon the manly nutriment of English letters; they 
knew by heart the bold sentiments of those intellectual benefactors 
who adorned the age of Elizabeth and the times of Cromwell ; they 
glpried in the best triumphs of the Commonwealth ; and to the 
earnest reflection and generous knowledge thus derived from their 
ancestral country they united the adventurous spirit of the pioneer, 
and the enthusiasm of the colonist, having a new and open field for 
experiment both of thought and action : accustomed to the elective 
franchise, imbued with attachment to freedom, and enlightened by 
sympathy with those who had nobly pleaded and bravely suffered in 
her cause at home, we cannot but perceive that the colonists achieved 
a revolution in the manner, rather than in the spirit, of their institu- 
tions; they carried out what had long existed in idea; and, as it were, 
actualized the views of Algernon Sidney and his illustrious compeers. 
It is through this intimate and direct relation with the past of the Old 
World, and as initiative to her ultimate self-enfranchisement, that our 
history daily grows in value and interest, unfolds new meaning, and 
becomes endeared to all thinking men. It is a link between two great 
cycles of human progress; the ark that, floating safely on the ocean-tide 
of humanity, preserves those elements of national freedom which are 
the vital hope of the world. 

Glorious, however, as is the theme, it is only within the last quarter 
of a century that it has found any adequafe illustration. The labors 
of American historians have been, for the most part, confined to the 
acquisition of materials, the unadorned record of facts ; their subjects 
have been chiefly local ; and in very few cases have their labors de- 
rived any charm from the graces of style, or the resources of philos- 
ophy : they are usually crude memoranda of events, not always relia- 
ble, though often curious. In a few instances care and scholarship 
render such contributions to American history intrinsically valuable; 
but, taken together, they are rather materials for the annalist than 
complete works, and as such will prove of considerable value. It is to 
collect and preserve these and other records that historical societies 
have been forrned in so many of the states. A storehouse of data is 
thus formed, to which the future historian can resort; and proba- 
bly the greater park of the local naiTatives is destined either to be 



490 A SKETCH OF [Chap. I. 

cte-written with all the amenities of literary tact and refinement, or, cast 
in the mould of geniuS, become identified with the future triumphs of 
the American novelist and poet. In the mean time, all honor is due to 
those who have assiduously labored to record the great events which 
have here occurred, and to preserve the memories of our patriots. 
Jared Sparks, late president of Harvard University, has labored most 
effectually in this sphere. In a series of well-written biographies, 
and in the collected Letters of Washington and Franklin, which he 
has edited, we have a rich fund of national material. Nor should the 
** Archives " of the venerable Peter Force be forgotten.* 

* Among the local and special histories, all more or less valuable as books of 
reference, and some having both literary and authentic merit, are Belknap's New 
Hampshire, Sullivan's Maine, Morton's Neuj England Memorial, Trumbull's 
Connecticut, Smith's New York, Watson's Annals of Pennsylvania, Williams's 
Vermont, Stephens's Georgia, Minot's Massachusetts, Stith's Virginia, Win- 
throp's Journal, Thatcher's Journal, Flint's Western States, Gayerre's Louisiana, 
O'Callahan's New York, Proud's Pennsylvania, Moultrie's Revolution in North 
and South Carolina and Georgia, Bishop White's History of the Episcopal Church, 
Jefferson's Notes on Virginia, Barton's Florida, Young's Chronicles of t?ie First 
Planters of Massachusetts Bay and Chronicles of the Pilgrim Fathers of New 
Plymouth, in N. E. Cheever's Journal of the Pilgrims, Frothingham's History 
of the Siege of Boston, Hammond's Political History of New York, Holmes's 
Annals, Kip's Early Jesuit Missions hi North America., Upham's History of 
the Salem Witchcraft, Mayer's History of the Mexican War, Miner's History 
of Wyoming, Marmette's History of the Valley of the Mississippi, Newell's 
History of the Revolution in Texas, Smith's Virginia, Sprague's History of 
the Florida War, J. T. Irving's Conquest of Florida, Thomas's Historical Ac- 
count of Pennsylvania, Thompson's Long Isla?id, Buckingham's Reminiscences, 
Whittier's Supernaturalism in New England, Pickett's Alabama, Thomas's Histo- 
ry of Printing, Morton's Louisiana, Macy's Nantucket, Sewell's Quakers, Drake's 
Indians, Camther's Cavaliers of Virginia, Alden's Collections, Francis Baylies's 
Colony of Plymouth, Bradford's History, and Green's Historical Studies. 

There are also many interesting volumes of American biography. Those of 
revolutionary and colonial times are embodied in the series edited by Sparks, 
and among other pleasing and valuable works in this department are the follow- 
ing : Marshall's Life of Washington, Tudor's Otis, Austin's Gerry, Wirt's Pat- 
rick ffe/iry, Wheaton's Pinckney, the Life of Josiah Quincy by his son, Colden's 
Fulton, the Life of John Adams by his grandson, Tucker's Jefferson, Knapp's 
American Biographies, Biddle's Cabot, the Life of Alexander Hamilton by his 
son, the Life of Washington, Franklin, John Jay, Gouverneur Morris, by Sparks, 
Gibbs's Life of Wolcott, Kennedy's Life of Wirt, Life of Judge Story by his 
son, Life of William E. Channing by his nephew. Life of Samuel Adams, of 
General Greene, of Joseph Warren, of Chief Justice Parsons by his son, of Gov- 
ernor Witithrop, of Theodore Parker, of Washington Irving^ &c., Parton's Lives 
of Franklin, Burr, and Jackson, and the Life and Letters of Washington Irving 
by his nephew, P. M. Irving, Life of Margaret Fuller Ossoli, Dunlap's Americati 
Theatre and History of the Arts of Design, Lives of Generals Putnam, Greene, Mar- 
ion, and Captain Smith, by W. Gilmore Simms, Colonel Stone's Life of Brant 
and Red-Jacket, Da»is's Life of Aaron Burr, Life of Reed, Life of Stirling, 
Sabine's American Loyalists, Wynne's Lives of Eminent Americans, Osgood's 
Studies in Christian Biography, Mrs. Lee's Huguenots, Mrs. Ellett's Women of 
the Revolution, Sherburne's Paul Junes, and Mackenzie's Decatur and Perry. 



Chap. I.] AMERICAN- LITERATURE. 491 

Among the earliest and most indefatigable laborers in the field of 
history was Ramsaj. His Mistoricdl VicM of the World, frotn the 
earliest Record to the Nineiccyith Ce7itury, ivith a particular Refer- 
ence to the State of Society, Literature, Religion, and Form of Govern^ 
mcnt of the United States of America, was published in 1819; a previous 
work earlj in 1S17; and more than forty years, during intervals of 
le'sure in an active life, were thus occupied by a man not more remark- 
able for mental assiduity than for all the social graces and solid excel- 
lences of human character. 

Dr. David Ramsay, a native of Lancaster county, Pennsylvania, 
was the son of an Irish emigrant. After graduating at Princeton 
College, and, according to the custom of the period, devoting two 
years to private tuition, he studied medicine, and removed to Charles- 
ton, South Carolina, where he soon became a distinguished patriotic 
writer. He -Was a surgeon in the American arm^', and active in the 
councils of the land, suffering, with other votaries of independence, 
the penalty of several months' banishment to St. Augustine. He 
earnestly opposed, in the legislature of the state, the confiscation of 
loyalist property. In 1782 he became a member of the Continental 
Congress; he three years after represented the Charleston district, 
and for a year was president of that body, in the absence of Han- 
cock. He died in 1815, in consequence of wounds received from the 
pistol of a maniac. Remarkable for a conciliatory disposition and 
ardent patriotism, he was a fluent speaker, and a man of great literary 
industry. Besides a History of the Revolution in South Carolina, 
which was translated and published in France, a History of the A?neri- 
can Revolution, which reached a second edition, a Life of Washington, 
and a History of South Carolifta, he left a History of the United States, 
from their first settlement to the year 1808, — afterwards continued, 
by other hands, to the treaty of Ghent, and published in three 
octavo volumies, — a monument of his unwearied and zealous research, 
and patient labor for the good of the public and the honor of his 
country. 

The most successful attempt yet made to reduce the chaotic but rich 
materials of American history to order, beauty, and moral significance, 
is the work of George Bancroft.* The inadequate history of Judge 
Marshall, and the careful one relating to the colonial period by Gra- 
hame, were previously the only works devoted to the subject. Our 

* George Bancroft was born in "Worcester, Massachusetts, in the year 1800: he 
is the son of Rev. Aaron Bancroft, D. D., for more than half a century minister 
of that town, a man highly venerated, and devoted to historical research, particu- 
larly as regards his native country. Thus under the paternal roof, and from his 
earliest age, the sympathies and taste of the son were awakened to the subject 
of American history. He graduated in the first rank of Harvard College in 1817. 
in 1834 appeared the first volume of his Histoi-y of the Colonization of the United 
States, in 1837 the second, in 1840 the third, and in 1852 the fourth, being tha 
introductory History of the RevoltUion, in 18G6 the nintht 



492 A SKETCH OP [Chap. I. 

revolution, in its most interesting details, was known in Europe chiefly 
through the attractive pages of Carlo Botta. With the ground thus 
unoccupied, Mr. Bancroft commenced his labors. He was prepared for 
them not only by culture and talent, but by an earnest sympathy with 
the spirit of the age he was to illustrate. Having passed through the 
discipline of a brilliant scholastic career at the best university in the 
country, studied theology, and engaged in the classical education of 
youth, he had also visited Europe, and become imbued with the love 
of German literature; he was for two years a pupil of Heeren, at Got- 
tingen, and mingled freely with the learned coteries of Berlin and 
Heidelberg. His two first published works, after his return to the 
United States, are remarkably suggestive of his traits of mind, and 
indicate that versatility which is so desirable in an historian. These 
were a small volume of metrical pieces, mainly expressive of his indi- 
vidual feelings and experience ; and a translation of Professor Heeren's 
Reflections on the Politics of Ancient Greece : thus early both the poetic 
and the philosophic elements were developed ; and although, soon after, 
Mr. Bancroft entered activelj' into political life, and held several high 
offices under the general government, including th?t of minister to 
Great Britain, he continued to prosecute his historical researches, under 
the most favorable auspices, both at home and abroad, and from time 
to time put forth the successive volumes of his History of the United 
States. To this noble task he brought great and patient industry, an 
eloquent style, and a capacity to array the theme in the garb of philos- 
ophy. Throughout he is the advocate of democratic institutions ; and 
in the early volumes, where, by the nature of the subject, there is little 
scope for attractive detail, by infusing a reflective tone, he rescues the 
narrative from dryness and monotony. Instead of a series of facts 
arranged without any unity of sentiment, we have the idea and princi- 
ple of civic advancement towards freedom, as a thread of gold upon 
which the incidents are strung. He is remarkably assiduous in un- 
folding the experience of the first dicoverers, and the political creeds of 
the early settlers ; many curious and authentic details of aboriginal 
habits are also given ; tliere are everywhere signs of careful research 
and genuine enthusiasm. Owing, perhaps, to the unequal interest of 
the subject, the same glow and finish are not uniformly perceptible in 
the style, in which we occasionally discern an obvious strain after rhe- 
torical effect; and sometimes the influence of the author's political 
opinions is too apparent; but these are incidental defects; the general 
spirit, execution, and effect of the work are elevated, genial, and highly 
instructive. Mr. Bancroft has, at least, vindicated his right to com- 
pose the annals of his country, by giving to the record that vitality, 
both of description and of thought, which distinguishes a genius for 
history from the mere ability to collate facts. His manner and reflec- 
tion rise, too, with his subject; the outline becomes firmer, and the 
inferences clearer, jis he emerges from the colonial and enters the revo- 
lutionary era. Combining, apparently, in his own mind, the traits of 



Chap. I.] AMERICAN LITERATURE. 493 

his twofold culture, we have the speculative tendency of the German, 
and the graphic delineation of the English writers ; in a word, he gives 
us pictures, like the one, and arguments and suggestions, like the other, 
carefully stating the fact, and earnestly deducing from it the idea ; he 
is more comprehensive as a philosopher than a limner; and yet no tyro 
in the latter's art, for here and there we encounter a character as tersely 
drawn, and a scene as vividly painted, as any of those which have ren- 
dered the best modern historians popular. But it is the under-current 
of thought, rather than the brilliant surface of description, which gives 
intellectual value to Bancroft's History^ and has secured for it so high 
and extensive a reputation. In sentiment and principles, it is thor- 
oughly American ; but in its style and philosophy it has that broad 
and eclectic spirit appropriate both to the general interest of the sub- 
ject and the enlightened sympathies of the age. Perhaps the best 
way to appreciate the literary merits of Bancroft's History is to com- 
pare it with the cold and formal annals familiar to our childhood. 
Unwearied and patient in research, discriminati/ig in the choice of 
authorities, and judicious in estimating testimony, Bancroft has the 
art and the ardor, the intelligence and the tact, required to fuse into a 
vital unity the narrative thus carefully gleaned. He knows how to 
condense language, evolve^thought from fact, and make incident and 
characterization illustrate the progress of events. This bold, active, 
concentrated manner is what is needed to give permanent and living 
in^terest to history. Portraits of individuals, scenes pregnant with 
momentous results and philosophic inferences, alternate in his pages. 
The character of Pitt, the death of Montcalm, and the rationale of 
Puritanism, are very diverse subjects ; yet they are each related to the 
development of the principle of freedom on this continent, and ac- 
cordingly received both the artistic and analytical treatment of the 
American historian. 

Hildreth's History of the United States will probably become a 
standard book of reference. Rhetorical grace and effect, picturesque- 
ness and the impress of individual opinion, are traits which the author 
either rejects or keeps in abeyance. His narrative is plain and i 
straightforward, confined to facts which he seems to have gleaned with 
great care and conscientiousness. The special merit of his work con- 
sists in the absence of whatever can possibly be deemed either irrele- 
vant or ostentatious. A History of Liberty^ by Samuel Eliot, is the work 
of scholarship and taste, but not of poetic inspiration or philosophy; 
it is, however, an elegant addition to our native writings in this sphere. 
In a popular form, the most creditable performance is the Field-Book 
of the Revolution, by Benson J. Lossing, a wood-engraver by profes- 
sion, who has visited all the scenes of that memorable war, and, with 
pen and pencil, delineated each incident of importance, and every 
object of local interest. His work is one which is destined to find its 
way to every farmer's hesjt, and to all the school libraries of our 
country. 



494 A SKETCH OF [Chap. I. 

The freshness of his subjects, the beauty of his style, and the vast 
difficulties he bravely surmounted, gained for William H. Prescott* 
not only an extensive but a remarkably speedy reputation, after the 
appearance of his first history. Many years of study, travel, and oc- 
casional practice in writing, preceded the long-cherished design of 
achieving an historical fame. Although greatly impeded, at the outset, 
by a vision so imperfect as to threaten absolute blindness, in other 
respects he was singularly fortunate. Unlike the majority of intellec- 
tual aspirants, he had at his command the means to procure the needful 
but expensive materials for illustrating a subject more prolific, at once, 
of romantic charms and great elements of human destiny, than any 
unappropriated theme offered by the whole range of history. It in- 
cluded the momentous voyage of Columbus, Wit fall of the Moorish 
empire in Spain, and the many and eventful consequences thence result- 
ing. Aided by the researches of our minister at Madrid, f himself an en- 
thusiast in letters, Mr. Prescott soon possessed himself of ample docu- 
ments and printed authorities. These he caused to be read to him, and 
during the process dictated notes, which were afterwards so frequently 
repeated orally that his mind gradually possessed itself of all the im- 
portant details ; and these he clothed in his own language, arranged 
them with discrimination, and made out a consecutive and harmonious 
narrative. Tedious as such a course must be, and laborious in the 
highest degree as it proved, I am disposed to attribute to it, in a meas- 
ure at least, some of Mr. Prescott's greatest charms as an historian — 
the remarkable evenness and sustained harmony, the unity of concep- 
tion and ease of manner, as rare as it is delightful. The History of 
Ferdinand and Isabella is a work that unites the fascination of roman- 
tic fiction with the grave interest of authentic events. Its author makes 
no pretension to analytical power, except in the arrangement of his 
materials ; he is content to describe, and his talents are more artistic 
than philosophical; neither is any cherished theory or principle obvi- 
ous; his ambition is apparently limited to skilful narration. Indefati- 
gable in research, sagacious in the choice and comparison of authorities, 
serene in temper, graceful in style, and pleasing in sentiment, he pos- 
sesses all the requisites for an agreeable writer; while his subjects have 
yielded so much of picturesque material and romantic interest, as to 
atone for the lack of any more original or brilliant qualities in the 
author. Ferdina?td and Isabella was followed by The Conquest of 

* William H. Prescott was the grandson of Colonel William Prescott, who 
commanded the Americans at the battle of Bunker Hill. He was born in Sa- 
lem, Massachusetts, on the 4th of May, 1796. Educated in boyhood by Dr. 
Gardiner, a fine classical teacher, he entered Harvard College in 1814. He 
studied law, and passed two years in Europe. In 1838 was published his 
"History of Ferdinand and Isabella, which* met with almost immediate and un- 
precedented success. It was soon translated into all the modern European 
languages. He died in Boston, January 23, 1859. 

t Alexander H. Everett. 



Chap. I.] AMERICAN LITERATURE. 495 

Mexico, and The Conquest of Peru. The scenic descriptions and the 
portraits of the Spanish leaders, and of Montezuma and Guatimozin, 
in the former work, give to it all the charm of an effective romance. 
Few works of imagination have more power to win the fancy and touch 
the heart. The insight afforded into Aztec civilization is another 
source of interest. The moral qualities of considerate reflection and 
frankness are memorable characteristics of Prescott. He has added to 
the standard literature of the age, and to the literary fame of his coun- 
try, by his graceful, judicious, and attractive labors in a field compara- 
tively new, and abounding in artistic material. 

Prescott at the time of his death was engaged on a history of Philip 
II. of Spain. In his previous efforts, he had the advantage of subjects 
not identified with the prejudices and passions of the present age, and 
not demanding for their just display any great reach of thought. His 
well-balanced periods, quiet and sustained tone, and agreeable manner, 
therefore, had their full effect. Perhaps, had he thus discussed his- 
torical themes nearer the sympathies of the hour, this absence of 
earnestness and reflection would have been more consciously felt by 
his many delighted readers. 

Another of the few standard works in this department, of native ori- 
gin, is the lyife and Voyages of Colutndus, by Washington Irving. 
Ostensibly a biography, it partakes largely of the historical character. 
As in the case of Prescott, the friendly suggestions of our minister at 
Madrid greatly promoted the enterprise. The work is based on the 
researches of Navarette; and it is a highly fortunate circumstance that 
the crude though invaluable data thus gathered was first put in shape 
and adorned with the elegances of a polished diction, by an American 
writer at once so popular a»^ so capable as Irving. The result is a Life 
of Columbus, authentic, clear, and animated in narration, graphic in 
its descriptive episodes, and sustained and finished in style. It is a 
permanent contribution to English as well as American literature, — 
one which was greatly needed, and most appropriately supplied. 

Henry Wheaton, long our minister at Berlin, is chiefly known to 
literary fame by his able Treatise on International Laxv ; but, while 
charge d'affaires in Denmark, he engaged with zeal in historical s-tud- 
ies, and published in London, in 1831, a History of the Northmen^ a 
most curious, valuable, and suggestive, though limited work. 

James Fenimore Cooper's Naval History of the United States, 
although not so complete as is desirable, is a most interesting work, 
abounding in scenes of generous valor and rare excitement, recounted 
with the tact and spirit which the author's taste and practice so admi- 
rably fitted him to exhibit on such a theme. Some of the descriptions 
of naval warfare are picturesque and thrilling in the highest degree. 
The work, too, is an eloquent appeal to patriotic sentiment and national 
pride. It is one of the most characteristic histories, both in regard to 
subject and style, yet produced in America. 

One of the most satisfactory of recent historical \\'orks is Tie Cott" 



496 A SKETCH OF [Chap. I. 

sfiracy of Poniiac, by Francis Parkman, of Boston. During a tour 
in the Far West, where he hunted the buffalo and fraternized with the 
Indians, the author gained that practical knowledge of aboriginal hab- 
its and character which enabled him to delineate the subject chosen 
with singular truth and effect. Having faithfully explored the annals 
of the French and Indian war, he applied to its elucidation the vivid 
impressions derived from his sojourn in forest and prairie, his observa- 
tion of Indian life, and his thorough knowledge of the history of the 
Red Men. The result is not only a reliable and admirably planned 
narrative, but one of the most picturesque and romantic yet produced 
in America. Few subjects are more dramatic and rich in local asso- 
ciations; and the previous discipline and excellent style of the author 
have imparted to it a permanent attraction. Pioneers of France in the 
Nev) Worlds is a charming historical narrative from the same pen. 



Chap. I.] AMERICAN LITERATURE, 49: 



CHAPTER II. 

Belles Lettres. Influence of British Essayists. Franklin. Dennie. Signs 
of Literary Improvement. Jonathan Oldstyle. "Washington Irving. 
His Knickerbocker. Sketch-Book. His other Works. Popularity. Tour on 
the Prairies. Character as an Author. Dana. Wilde. Hudson. Gris- 
woLD. Lowell. Whipple. Ticknor. Walker. Wayland. James. 
Emerson. Transcendentalists. Madame Ossoli. Emerson's Essays. Or- 
viLLE Dewey. Humorous Writers. Belles Lettres. Tudor. Wirt. 
Sands. Fay. Walsh. Mitchell. Kimball. American Travellers. Causes 
of their Success as Writers. Fiction. Charles Brockden Brown. His 
Novels. James Fenimore Cooper, His Novels — their Popularity and 
Characteristics. Nathaniel Hawthorne. His Works and Genius. Other 
American Writers of Fiction. 

The colloquial and observant character given to English literature by 
the wits, politicians, and essayists of Queen Anne's time — the social 
and agreeable phase which the art of writing exhibited in the form of 
the spectator. Guardian, Tatler, and other popular works of the kind, 
naturally found imitators in the American colonies. The earliest indi- 
cation of a taste for belles lettres is the republication, in the newspapers 
of New England, of some of the fresh lucubrations of Steele and Ad- 
dison. The Lay Preacher, by Dennie, was the first successful imita- 
tion of this fashionable species of literature : more characteristic, 
however, of the sound common sense and utilitarian instincts of the 
people, were the essays of Franklin, commenced in his brother's jour- 
nal, then newly established at Boston. Taste for the amenities of 
intellectual life, however, at this period, was chiefly gratified by re- 
course to the emanations of the British prpss ; and it is some years 
after that we perceive signs of that native impulse in this sphere which 
proved the germ of American literature. " If we are not mistaken in 
the signs of the times," says Buckminster (in an oration delivered at 
Cambridge, and published in the Anthology, a Boston magazine, which, 
with the Port Folio, issued at Philadelphia, were the first literary jour- 
nals of high aims in America) — "the genius of our literature begins to 
show symptoms of vigor, and to meditate a bolder flight. The spirit 
of criticism begins to plume itself, and education, as it assumes a more 
learned form, will take a higher aim. If we are not misled by our 
hopes, the dream of ignorance is at least broken, and there are signs 
that the period is approaching when we may say of our country, Tuus 
jam regnat Apollo" This prophecy had received some confirmation 
in the grace and local observation manifest in a series of letters which 
appeared in the New Tork Chronicle, signed Jonathan Oldstyle, Gent. 
— the first productions of Washington Irving, the Goldsmith of Amer- 
ica who was born in New York, April 6, 1783. Symptoms of alarming 
42* 



493 A SKETCH OF [Chap. II. 

disease soon after induced a voyage to Europe ; and he returned to the 
Island of Manhattan, the scene of his boyish rambles and youthful 
reveries, with a mind expanded by new scenes, and his natural love 
of travel and elegant literature deepened. Although ostensibly a law 
student in the office of Judge Hoffman, his time was devoted to social 
intercourse with his kindred, who were established in business in 
New York, and a few genial companions, to meditative loiterings 
in the vicinity of the picturesque river so dear to his heart, and to 
writing magazine papers. The happy idea of a humorous description 
of his native town, under the old Dutch governors, was no sooner con- 
ceived than executed with inimitable wit and originality. Not then 
contemplating the profession of letters, he did not take advantage of 
the remarkable success that attended this work, of which Sir Walter 
Scott thus speaks in one of his letters to an American friend : " I beg 
you to accept my best thanks for the uncommon degree of entertain- 
ment which I have received from the most excellently jocose history of 
New York. I am sensible that as a stranger to American parties and 
politics, I must lose much of the concealed satire of the piece ; but I 
must own that, looking at the simple and obvious meaning only, I have 
never read anything so closely resembling the style of Dean Swift as 
the annals of Diedrich Knickerbocker. I have been employed these 
few evenings in reading them aloud to Mrs. S. and two ladies who 
are our guests, and our sides have been absolutelj^ sore with laughing. 
I think, too, there are passages which indicate that the author possesses 
power of a different kind, and has some touches which remind me much 
of Sterne." Salmagundi^ which Mr. Irving had previously undertaken, 
in conjunction with Paulding, proved a hit, and established the fame 
of its authors; it was in form and method of publication imitated from 
the Spectator^ but in details, spirit, and aim, so exquisitely adapted to 
the latitude of New York, that its appearance was hailed with a delight 
hitherto unknown; it was, in fact, a complete triumph of local genius. 
From these pursuits, the author turned to commercial toil, in connec- 
tion with which he embarked for England in 1815; and while there, a 
reverse of fortune led to his resuming the pen as a means of subsistence. 
In his next work, the Sketck-Book, Sir Walter's opinion of his pathetic 
vein was fully realized ; Tke Wife, The Pride of the Village, and The 
Broken Heart, at once took their places as gems of English sentiment 
and description. Nor were the associations of home inoperative ; and 
the Legend of Sleefy Hollotv first gave a " local habitation," in our 
fresh land, to native fancy. His impressions of domestic life in Great 
Britain were soon after given to the public in Bracehridge Hall, and 
some of his continental experiences embodied in the Tales of a Trav- 
eller. Soon after, Mr. Irving visited Spain to write the Life of Colujn- 
bus, to which we have before alluded. His sojourn at the Alhambra, 
and at Abbotsford and Newstead Abbey, are the subjects of other grace- 
ful and ch-irming volumes ; while Astoria, or Anecdotes of an Enter- 
prise beyond the Rocky Afountains, and the Life of Mohammed, proved 
solid as well as elegant contributions to our standard literature; and 
the Life of Washi^tgton, a standard national biography. 



Chap. IL] AMERICAN- LITERATURE. 499 

There are writers who have so ministered to our enjoyment as to 
become associated with our happiest literary recollections. The com- 
panionship of their works has been to us as that of an entertaining and 
cherished friend, whose converse cheers the hours of languor, and 
brightens the period of recreative pleasure. We are wont to think and 
to speak of them with quite a different sentiment from that which 
prompts us to speculate upon less familiar and less endeared produc- 
tions. There is ever within us a sense of obligation, an identification 
of our individual partiality with the author, when the fruits of his labors 
are alluded to, his merits discussed, or his very name mentioned. The 
sensitiveness appropriate to the writer's self seems, in a manner, trans- 
ferred to our own bosoms ; his faults are scarcely recognized, and we 
guard his laurels as if our own efforts had aided in their winning, and 
our own happiness was involved in their preservation. Such feelings 
obtain, indeed, to a greater or less extent, with reference to all the mas- 
ter spirits in literature, whose labors have been devoted, with signal 
success, to the gratification and elevation of humanity. But the degree 
of permanency for such tributary sentiment in the general mind de- 
pends very much upon the field of effort selected by the favorite author, 
and his own peculiar circumstances and character. Subjects of tem- 
porary interest, however admirably treated, and with whatever applause 
received, are obviously ill calculated to retain, for any considerable 
length of time, a strong hold upon human regard ; and, notwithstand- 
ing the alleged inconsistency between an author's personal character 
and history and the influence of his works, the motives adduced by 
Addison for prefacing the Spectator with an account of himself are 
deeply founded in human nature. Not merely contemporary sentiment, 
but after opinion in relation to literary productions, will be materially 
affected by what is known of the author. The present prevailing ten- 
dency to inquire, often with a truly reprehensible minuterfess, into 
whatever in the most distant manner relates to the leading literary 
men of the age, affords ample evidence of this truth. Indeed, we may 
justly anticipate that literarj^, if not general biography, will, ere long, 
from the very interest manifested in regard to it, attain an importance, 
and ultimately a philosophical dignitj-^, such as shall engage in its behalf 
the sedulous labors of the best endowed and most accomplished minds. 

The occasion which first indu-ced Geoffrey Crayon to delineate, and 
those which have suggested his subsequent pencillings, were singularly 
happy; and the circumstances under which these masterly sketches 
were produced, nay, the whole history of the man, are signally fitted 
to deepen the interest which his literary merits necessarily excited. In 
saying this, we are not unmindful of the prejudices so ungenerously 
forced upon the attention of the absentee, and so affec^ingly alluded to 
in the opening of his first work after returning from Europe ; but do 
we err in deeming those prejudices as unchargeable upon the mass of 
his countrymen as they were essentially unjust and partial.-* Nay, are 
we not, in this volume, with our author's characteristic genuineness of 
feeling and simplicity, assured of his own settled and happy sense of 
the high place he occupies in the estimation and love of Americans? 



500 A SKETCH OF [Chap. II. 

The Tour on the Prairies appeared in 1836. It is an unpretending 
account, comprehending a period of about four weeks, of travelling 
and hunting excursions upon the vast western plains. The local fea- 
tures of this interesting region have been displayed to us in several 
works of fiction, of which it has formed the scene ; and more formal 
illustrations of the extensive domain denominated The West, and its 
denizens, have been repeatedly presented to the public. But in this 
volume one of the most extraordinary and attractive portions of, the 
great subject is discussed, not as the subsidiary part of a romantic 
story, nor yet in the desultory style of epistolary composition, but in 
the deliberate, connected form of a retrospective narration. When wi; 
say that the Tour on the Prairies is rife with the characteristics of its 
author, no ordinary eulogium is bestowed. His graphic power is mani- 
fest throughout. The boundless prairies stretch out inimitably to the 
fancy, as the eye scans his descriptions. The athletic figures of the 
riflemen, the gayly arrayed Indians, the heavy buffalo, and the graceful 
deer, pass in strong relief and startling contrast before us. We are 
stirred by the bustle of the camp at dawn, and soothed by its quiet or 
delighted with its picturesque aspect under the shadow of night. The 
imagination revels amid the green oak clumps and verdant pea vines, 
the expanded plains and the glancing river, the forest aisles and the 
silent stars. Nor is this all. Our hearts thrill at the vivid representa- 
tions of a primitive and excursive existence; we involuntarily yearn, 
as we read, for the genial activity and the perfect exposure to the influ- 
ences of Nature in all her free magnificence, of a woodland and adven- 
turous life ; the morning strain of the bugle, the excitement of the chase, 
the delicious repast, the forest gossipin'g, the sweet repose beneath th4> 
canopy of heaven — how inviting, as depicted by such a pencil ! 

Nor has the author failed to invigorate and render doubly attractive 
these descriptive drawings, with the peculiar light and shade of his own 
rich humor, and the mellow softness of his ready sympathy. A less 
skilful draughtsman would, perhaps, in the account of the preparations for 
departure (Chapter III.), have spoken of the hunters, the fires, and the 
steeds — but who, except GeoftVey Crayon, would have been so quaintly 
mindful of the little dog, and the manner in which he regarded the 
operations of the farrier.? How inimitably the Bee Hunt is portrayed! 
and what have we of the kind so racy as the account of the Republic 
of Prairie Dogs, unless it be that of the Rookery in Bracebridge Hall.? 
What expressive portraits are the delineations of our rover's compan- 
ions! How consistently drawn throughout, and in what fine contrast, 
are the reserved and saturnine Beatte, and the vain-glorious, sprightly, 
and versatile Tonish ! A golden vein of vivacious, yet chaste compari- 
son — that beautiful, yet rarely well-managed species of wit, and a 
wholesome and pleasing sprinkling of moral comment — that delicate 
and often most efficacious medium of useful impressions — intertwine 
and vivify the main narrative. Something, too, of that fine pathos 
which enriches his earlier productions, enhances the value of the 
present. He tells us, indeed, with commendable honesty, of his new 
Rppetite for destruction, which the game of the prairie excited ; but we 



Chap. IL] AMERICAN LITERATURE. 501 

cannot fear for the tenderness of a heart that S3'mpathizes so readily with 
suffering, and yields so gracefully to kindly impulses. He gazes upon 
the noble courser of the wilds, and wishes that his freedom may be 
perpetuated; he recognizes the touching instinct which leads the 
wounded elk to turn aside and die in retiracy; he reciprocates the 
attachment of the beast which sustains him, and, more than all, can 
minister even to the foibles of a fellow-being, rather than mar the 
transient reign of human pleasure. 

Washington Irving's last days were passed at his congenial home, 
** Sunnyside," on the banks of his favorite river, the Hudson. The 
revised edition of his works had a large sale, and to these he added 
many Spanish legends, home sketches, and his elaborate biography 
of Washington. After so many years passed abroad, and his residence 
as American minister at the Court of Spain, and after so long and pros- 
perous a literary, and so genial and endeared a social, career, he died 
— surrounded by his kindred, to whom he was the life-long benefactor, 
crowned with honorable fame and the affection of his countrymen — ■ 
on the 29th of November, 1859, ^^ ^^^^ ^E^ of seventy-six. His pub- 
lisher, George P. Putnam, has issued, and continues to issue, three 
different editions of his writings, of which the following is a list ; 
Alhambra, Astoria^ Bonfteville, Bracebridg-e, Columbus, Crayon, Gold- 
smith, Granada, Knickerbocker, Mahomet, Salmagundi, Sketch-Book, 
Spanish Papers, Traveller, Wolferfs Roost, Life of Washington. 

It has been said that Mr. Irving, at one period of his life, seriously 
proposed to himself the profession of an artist. The idea was a legit- 
imate result of his intellectual constitution ; and although he denied 
its development in one form, in another it has fully vindicated itself. 
Many of his volumes are a collection of sketches, embodied happily 
in language, since thereby their more general enjoyment is insured, 
but susceptible of immediate transfer to the canvas of the painter. 
These are like a line gallerj' of pictures, wherein all his countrymen 
delight in many a morning lounge and evening reverie. 

Until within the last half century, not only the standard literature, 
but the critical opinions, of America were almost exclusively of trans- 
atlantic origin. But within that period a number of writers, endowed 
with acute perceptions and eloquent expression, as well as the requisite 
knowledge, have arisen to elucidate the tendencies, define the traits, 
and advocate the merits of modern writers. By faithful translations, 
able reviews, lectures and essays, the best characteristics of men of 
literary genius, schools of philosophy, poetry, and science have bcnn 
rendered familiar to the cultivated minds of the nation. Thus Richard 
H. Dana has explored and interpreted, with a rare sympathetic intel- 
ligence, the old English drama; Andrews Norton, the authenticity of 
the Gospels; Richard H. Wilde, the love and madness of Tasso; Alex 
ander H. Everett, the range of contemporary French and German 
literature; Professor Reed, the poetry of Wordsworth; Henry N. 
Hudson, the plays of Shakspeare; John S. Hart, the Faery Queen; 
Russell Lowell, the older British poets; and Edwin P. Whipple, the 



502 A SKETCH OF [Chap. II. 

best authors of Great Britain and America. W. A. Jones, Hoffman, 
Duyckinck, and others, have also illustrated o »r critical literature. 

For the chief critical and biographical history of literature in the 
United States, we are indebted to E. A. and George Dujckinck's 
Cyclopedia of American Literature., two copious and interesting vol- 
umes, popular at home and useful abroad, giving an elaborate account 
of what has been done by American writers from the foundation of the 
country to the present hour. These works are the fruit of great re- 
search, and an enthusiasm for native literature as rare as it is patriotic. 
Our numerous " Female Prose Writers " have also found an intelligent 
and genial historian and critic in Professor Hart. 

The philosophic acuteness, animated and fluent diction, and thorough 
knowledge of the subjects discussed, render Mr. Whipple's critical essaj's 
among the most agreeable reading of the kind. His reputation as an 
eloquent and sagacious critic is now firmly established. Both in style 
and thought these critical essays are worthy of the times; bold without 
extravagance, refined, yet free of dilettanteism, manly and philosophic in 
sentiment, and attractive in manner.* The most elaborate single work, 
however, in the history of literature, is George Ticknor's History of 
Spanish Literature, the result of many j^ears' research, and so complete 
and satisfactory, that the best European critics have recognized it a per- 
manent authority; it is both authentic and tasteful ; the translations are 
excellent, the arrangement judicious, and the whole performance a work 
of genuine scholarship. It supplies a desideratum, and is an interest- 
ing and thorough exposition of a subject at once curious, attractive, 
and of general literary utility. James Walker and Francis Wayland, 
although of widely diverse theological opinions, are both expositors of 
moral philosophy, to which they have made valuable contributions. 
Henry James, of Albany, is the most argumentative and eloquent 
advocate of new social principles in the countrj'; and Waldo Emer- 
son, by a certain quaintness of diction and boldly speculative turn of 
mind, has achieved a wide popularity. It is, however, to a peculiar 
verbal facility and aphoristic emphasis, rather than to any constructive 
genius, that he owes the impression he creates. He is regarded as the 
leader of a sect, who, some years since, from the reaction of minds op- 
pressed and narrowed by New England conventionalism and bigotry, and, 
in some instances, kindled by the speculations of German literature, 
broke away from the conventional and sought freedom in the transcen- 
dental school. In the Memoirs of Margaret Fuller Ossoli, the move- 
ment is described and the principles of its disciples hinted rather than 
explained. " The rise of this enthusiasm," says her biogiapher, " was 
as mysterious as that of any form of revival; and only they who, were 
of the faith could comprehend how bright was this morning-time of a 
new hope. Transcendentalism was an assertion of the inalienable 
integrity of man, of the ordinances of Divinity in instinct. In part it 
was a reaction against Puritan orthodoxy; in part an effect of renewed 
study of the ancients, of Oriental Pantheists, of Plato, and the Alexan- 

* Essays and Reviews ; Literature and Life ; Character and Characteristic 
Men. 



Chap. II.] AMERICAN LITERATURE. 503 

drians, of Plutarch's Morals, Seneca, and Epictetus; in part the natural 
product of the place and time. On the somewhat stunted stock of 
Unitarianism — whose characteristic dogma was trust in individual 
reason as correlative to Supreme Wisdom — had been grafted German 
idealism as taught by masters of most various schools." 

Whoever turns to Emerson's Essays , or to the writings of this tran- 
scendental sibjl (whose remarkable acquirements, moral courage, and 
tragic fate, render her name prominent among our female authors) for 
a system, a code, or even a set of definite principles, will be disap- 
pointed. The chief good thus far achieved by this class of thinkers 
has been negative ; they have emancipated many minds from the thral- 
dom of local prejudices and prescriptive opinion, but have failed to 
reveal any positive and satisfactory truth unknown before. Emerson | 
has an inventive fancy ; he knows how to clothe truisms in startling 
costume; he evolves beautiful or apt figures and apothegms that strike 
at first, but when contemplated, prove, as has been said, usually either 
true and not new, or new and not true. His volumes, however, are 
suggestive, tersely and often gracefully written ; they are thoughtful, 
observant, and speculative, and indicate a philosophic taste rather than 
power. As contributions to American literature, they have the merit 
of a spirit, beauty, and reflective tone previously almost undiscoverable 
in the didactic writings of the country. A writer of more consistency 
in ethics, and a sympathy with man more human, is Orville Dewey, 
whose discourses abound in earnest appeals to consciousness, in a noble 
vindication of human nature, and a faith in progressive ideas, often 
arrayed in touching and impressive rhetoric. 

We have not been wanting in excellent translators, especially of 
German literature ; our scholars and poets have admirably used their 
knowledge of the language in this regard. The first experiment was 
Bancroft's translation of Heeren, already referred to; and since then, 
some of the choicest lyrics and best philosophy of Germany have been 
given to the American public by Professor Longfellow, George Ripley, 
R. W. Emerson, John S. Dwight, S. M. Fuller, George H. Calvert, Rev. 
C. T. Brooks, W. H. Channing, F. H. Hedge, Samuel Osgood, and 
others. Dr. Mitchell, of New York, translated Sannazario's Italian 
poems, Mrs. Nichols the Promessi Sposi of Manzoni, and Dr. Parsons, 
of Boston, has made the best metrical translations into English of 
Dante's great poem. 

The most elaborate piece of humor in our literature has been already 
mentioned — as Irving's facetious history of his native town. The 
sketch entitled The Stout Ge?itleman, by the same genial author, is 
another-inimitable attempt in miniature, as well as some of the papers 
in Salmagundi. The Letters of Jack Dowtiing n\Q.y hQ considered an 
indigenous specimen in this department ; and also the Charcoal 
Sketches of Joseph C. Neal, the Ollapodiana of Willis G. Clarke, the 
Puffer Hopkins of Cornelius Matthews, and many scenes by Thorpe, 
in Mrs. Kirkland's New Home, and the Biglow Papers of J. R. Lowell. 
The original aspects of life in the West and South, as well as those of 
Yankee Land, have also found several apt and graphic delineators; 



501 A SKETCH OF [Chap. IL 

although the coarseness of the subjects, or the carelessness of the style, 
will seldom allow them a literary rank. 

That delightful species of literature which is neither criticism nor 
fiction — neither oratory nor history — but partakes somewhat of all 
these, and owes its charm to a felicitous blending of fact and fancy, of 
sentiment and thought — the belles lettres writing of our country, has 
gradually increased as the ornamental has encroached on the once 
arbitrary domain of the useful. Among the earliest specimens were 
the Letters of a British Spy^ and the Old Bachelor of William Wirt, 
and Tudor's Letters on Nevj England : in New York this sphere was 
gracefully illustrated by Robert C. Sands and Theodore S. Fay, by tale, 
novelette, and essay; in Philadelphia, by Robert Walsh, who gleaned 
two volumes from his newspaper articles ; and at present, by the Rev- 
eries of a Bachelor of Mitchell, and the contributions of N. P. Willis, 
and in a more vigorous manner in the St. Leger Papers of Kimball. 
Professors Frisbie, Caldwell, Henry, and others have contributed to 
the taste and culture of the belles lettres in America.* 

The literature of no country is more rich in books of travel. From 
Carter's Letters from Europe^ Dwight's Travels in Neiv England^ and 
Lewis and Clark's Expedition to the Rocky Motcntains, to the Yucatan 
of Stephens, and the Two Tears before the Mast of Dana, American 
writers have put forth a succession of animated, intelligent, and most 
agreeable records of their explorations in every part of the globe. In 
many instances, their researches have been directed to a special object, 
and resulted in positive contributions to natural science ; thus Audu- 
bon's travels are associated with his discoveries in ornithology, and 
those of Schoolcraft with his Indian lore. Stephens revealed to our 
gaze the singular and magnificent ruins of Central America; Sander- 
son unfolded the hygiene of life in Paris; Flint guided our steps 
through the fertile valleys of the West, and Irving and Hoffman 
brought its scenic wonders home to the coldest fancy.f 

* There are a few American books which cannot be strictly classified under 
either of these divisions, which not only have a sterling value, but a wide and 
established reputation, such as the Legal Commentaries o{ Chancellor Kent ; the 
Dictionary of Noah "Webster; Dr. Rush's Treatise on the Philosophy of the 
Human Voice ; Lectures on Art, by Washington Allston ; the Classical Manuals 
of Professor Anthon, and Rev. P. BulUons, D. D. ; Dr. Bowditch's translation 
of the Mecanique Celeste of La Place ; the Ornithohgy of Wilson and Audubon ; 
Catlin's and Schoolcraft's works on the Indians ; — the ethnological contributions 
of Squier, Pickering's philological researches, and the essays on political econ- 
omy by Albert Gallatin, Raguet, Dr. Cooper, Tucker, Colton, Wayland, Middle- 
ton, Raymond, A. H. Everett, and Henry C. Carey. Francis Bowen has published 
able lectures on metaphysical subjects. James D. Nourse, of Kentucky, has 
published a clever little treatise, the Philosophy of History ; Dr. Palfrey, of 
Massachusetts, a series of erudite lectures on Jewish antiquities ; J. Q. Adams 
a course on rhetoric ; Judge Buell and Henry Colman valuable works on agricul- 
ture, and A. J. Downing on rural architecture and horticulture. 

t It is difficult to enumerate the works in this department ; but among them 
may be justly commended, either for graces of style, effective description, or 
interesting narrative, — and, in some instances, for, all these qualities combined. 



Chap. II.] AMERICAN LITERATURE, 505 

"Americans are thought hy foreign critics to excel as writefs of trav- 
els; and the opinion is confirmed by the remarkable success which has 
80 often attended their works. Indeed, in scarcely any other field of lit- 
erature has the talent of this country been so generally recognized 
abroad ; and this superiority appears to be a natural result of American 
life and character. With fe\Y time-honored customs or strong local 
associations to bind him to the soil, with little hereditary dignity of 
name or position to sustain, and accustomed, from infancj', to witness 
frequent changes of position and fortune, the inhabitant of no civilized 
land has so little restraint upon his vagrant humor as a native of the 
United States. The American is by nature locomotive ; he believes in 
change of air for health, change of residence for success, change of 
society for improvement. Pioneer enterprise is a staple of our his- 
tory. Not only do the economy of life and the extent of territory in 
the New World train her citizens, as it were, to travel, — their tempera- 
ment and taste also combine to make them tourists. Their existence 
favors quickness of perception, however inimical it may be to contem- 
plative energy. Self-reliance leads to adventure. The freedom from 
prejudice incident to a new country gives more ample scope to obser- 
vation ; and the very freshness of life renders impressions from new 
scenes more vivid. Thus free and inspired, it is not surprising that 
things often wear a more clear and impressive aspect to his mind, than 
they do to the jaded senses and the conventional views of more learned 
and reserved, but less flexible and genial travellers. The sympathetic 
grace of Irving, the impersonal fidelity of Stephens, the Flemish de- 
tails of Slidell Mackenzie, the picturesque and spirited description of 
Hoff'man, and the De Foe-like narratives of Melville and Dana, are 
qualities that have gained them more readers than fall to the lot of the 
herd of travellers, who have lavished on pictures of the same scenes 
more learning and finish, perhaps, but less of integrity of statement 
and naturalness of feeling."* 

Romantic fiction, in the United States, took its rise with the publica- 
tion of Wielajid by Charles Brockden Brown, in 1798; attained its 
most complete and characteristic development in the long and brilliant 
career, as a novelist, of James Fenimore Cooper ; and is now rep- 
resented, in its artistic excellence, by Nathaniel Hawthorne. The 
parents of Brown were Philadelphia Quakers, and he was born in that 

— the Year in Spain of Mackenzie, the Winter in the West of C. F. Hoffman, 
the Oregon Trail of Francis Parkman, the Pencillings by the Way of Willis, 
the Scenes and Thoughts in Europe of George H. Calvert, Longfellow's Outre- 
mer, the Typee of Melville, the Victcs afoot of Taylor, Fresh Gleanings by 
Mitchell, Nile Notes by Geo. W. Curtis, Squier's Nicaragua, and the writings cf 
this kind by Robinson, Long, Melville, Jewett, Spencer, Gregg, Townsend, Fre- 
mont, Lanman, Bryant, Thorpe, Kendall, Wilson, Webber, Colton, Gillespie, 
Headley, Dewey, Kip, Silliman, Bigelow. Cushing, Wise, Warren, Mitchell, 
Cheever, Catlin, Norman, Wallis, Shaler, Ruschenberger, King, Breckenridge, 
Kidder, Brown, Fisk, Lyman, the Exploring Expedition by Wilkes, the Dead Sea 
Expedition by Lynch, and the voyages of Delano, Cleveland,Coggeshall, and others. 
* Characteristics of Literature. Second Series. 
43 



506 A SKETCH OF [Chap. II. 

city on the 17th of January, 1771. An invalid from infancy, he had 
the dreamy moods and roaming propensity incident to poetical sym- 
pathies ; after vainly attempting to interest his mind in the law, except 
in a speculative manner, he became an author, at a period and under 
circumstances which afford the best evidence that the vocation was 
ordained by his idiosyncrasy. With chiefly the encouragement of a 
few cultivated friends in New York to sustain him, with narrow means 
and feeble health, he earnestly pursued his lonely career, inspired by 
the enthusiasm of genius. His literary toil was varied, erudite, and 
indefatigable. He edited magazines and annual registers, wrote politi- 
cal essays, a geography, and a treatise on architecture, translated Vol- 
ney's Travels in the United States, debated at clubs, journalized, corre- 
sponded, made excursions, and entered ardently into the quiet duties 
of the fireside and the family. His character was singularly gentle and 
pure ; and he was beloved, even when not appreciated. It is by his 
novels, however, that Brown achieved renown. They are remarkable 
for intensity and supernaturalism. His genius was eminently psycho- 
logical ; Godwin is his English prototype. To the reader of the pres- 
ent day, these writings appear somewhat limited and sketch-like ; but 
when we consider the period of their composition, and the disadvan- 
tages under which they appeared, they certainly deserve to be ranked 
among the wonderful productions of the human mind. Brown de- 
lighted to analyze the phenomena of consciousness, to bring human 
nature under mystic or extraordinary influences, and mai'k the conse- 
quences. In Ormond, Arthur Mervyn, Jane Talbot, Edgar Huntley, 
and Wieland, we have such agencies as pestilence, somnambulism, 
rare coincidence, and ventriloquism, brought to act upon individuals 
of excitable or introspective character, and the result is often thrilling. 
The descriptions are terse and suggestive, the analysis thorough, and 
the feeling high-strung and reflective. The pioneer of American fiction 
was endowed with rare energy of conception, and a style attractive 
from its restrained earnestness and minute delineation. He died at the 
close of his thirty-ninth year. Had his works been as artistically con- 
structed as they were profoundly conceived and ingeniously executed, 
they would have become standard. As it is, we recognize the rare 
insight and keen sensibility of the man, acknowledge his power to 
•' awaken terror and pity," and lament the want of high finish and effec- 
tive shape visible in these early and remarkable fruits of native genius. 
The first successful novel by an American author was the Spy. A 
previous work by the same author, entitled Precaution, had made com- 
paratively little impression. It was strongly tinctured with an English 
flavor, in many respects imitative, and, as it afterwards appeared, 
written and printed under circumstances which gave little range to 
Cooper's real genius. In 1823, he published the Pioneers. In this 
and the novel immediately preceding it, a vein of national association 
was opened, an original source of romantic and picturesque interest 
revealed, and an epoch in our literature created. What Cooper had 
the bold invention to undertake, he had the firmness of purpose and 
ihe elasticity of spirit to pursue with unflinching zeal. Indeed, his most 



Chap. II.] AMERICAN LITERATURE. 507 

• 
characteristic trait was self-reliance. He commenced .he arduous career 

of an author in a new country, and with fresh materials : at first, the 
tone of criticism was somewhat discouraging; but his appeal had been 
to the popular mind, and not to a literary clique, and the response was 
universal and sincere. From this time, he gave to the press a series 
of prose romances conceived with so much spirit and truth, and exe- 
cuted with such fidelity and vital power, that they instantly took captive 
the reader. His faculty of description, and his sense of the adventur- 
ous, were the great sources of his triumph. Refinement of style, poetic 
sensibility, and melodramatic intensity, were elements that he ignored ; 
but when he pictured the scenes of the forest and prairie, the incidents 
of Indian warfare, the vicissitudes of border life, and the phenomena 
of the ocean and nautical experience, he displayed a familiarity with 
the subjects, a keen sympathy with the characters, and a thorough 
reality in the delineation, which at once stamped him as a writer of 
original and great capacity. It is true that in some of the requisites 
of the novelist he was inferior to many subsequent authors in the same 
department. His female characters want individuality and interest, 
and his dialogue is sometimes forced and. ineffective ; but, on the other 
hand, he seized with a bold grasp the tangible and characteristic in his 
own land, and not only stirred the hearts of his countrymen with 
vivid pictures of colonial, revolutionary, and emigrant life, with the 
vast ocean and forest for its scenes, but opened to the gaze of Europe 
phases of human existence at once novel and exciting. The fisherman 
of Norway, the merchant of Bordeaux, the scholar at Frankfort, and 
the countess of Florence, in a brief period, all hung with delight over 
Cooper's daguerreotypes of the New World, transferred to their respec- 
tive languages. This was no ordinary triumph. It was a rich and 
legitimate fruit of American genius in letters. To appreciate it we 
must look back upon the period when the S;py, the Pioneers, the I^ast 
of the Mohicans, the Pilot, the Red Rover, the Wept of the Wish-ton- 
Wish, the Water Witch, and the Prairie, were new creations, and 
remember that they first revealed America to Europe through a literary 
medium. In the opinion of some critics, the unity and completeness 
of Cooper's fame have been marred by those novels drawn from foreign 
subjects and induced by a long residence in Europe ; by his honest but 
injudicious attempts to reform his countrymen in some of their partic- 
ular habits and modes of thought or action ; and also by his persistency 
in issuing volume after volume of fiction, less directly inspired by 
observation, and comparatively devoid of interest. Whatever truth 
may exist in such a view of his course, it is to be considered that all 
temporary defects are soon forgotten in those memorials of individual 
genius which have the stamp of the author's best powers, and the 
recognition of the world. Leather-Stocking and Long Tom Cofiin are 
standard characters ; the woodland landscapes, the sailing matches of 
men-of-war, the sea-fights, wrecks, and aboriginal heroes, depicted, as 
they are, by Cooper to the very life, and in enduring colors, will be 
identified both with his name and country, and ever vindicate his 
claims to remembrance. His youth was passed in a manner admirably 



503 A SKETCH OF [Chap. II. 

fitted to develop his special talent, and provide the resources of his 
subsequent labors. Born in Burlington, N. J., on the 15th of Septem- 
ber, 1789, he was early removed to the borders of Otsego Lake, where 
his father, Judge Cooper, erected a homestead, afterwards inhabited 
and long occupied bj the novelist. He was prepared for college bj the 
Rector of St. Peter's Church, in Albany, and entered Yale in 1S02. 
Three years after, having proved an excellent classical student, and 
enjoyed the intimacy of several youth afterwards eminent in the land, 
he left New Haven, and joined the United States navy as a midshipman. 
After passing six years in the service, he resigned, married, and soon 
after established himself on his paternal domain, situated amid some 
of the finest scenery and rural attraction of his native state. Thus 
Cooper was early initiated into the scenes of a newly-settled country and 
a maritime life, with the benefit of academical training and the best 
social privileges. All these means of culture and development his 
active mind fully appreciated ; his observation never slumbered, and 
its fruits were industriously garnered. 

His nautical and Indian tales form, perhaps, the most characteristic 
portion of our literature: The Bravo is the best of his European 
novels, and his Naval History is valuable and interesting. He was 
one of the most industrious of authors ; his books of travel and bio- 
graphical sketches are numerous, and possess great fidelity of detail, 
although not free from prejudice. Cooper represents the American 
mind in its adventurous character; he glories in delineating the 
" monarch of the deck; " paints the movements of a ship at sea as if 
she were, indeed, "a thing of life; " follows an Indian trail with the 
sagacity of a forest-king; and leads us through storms, conflagration, 
and war with the firm, clear-sighted, and all-observant guidance of a 
master-spirit. His best scenes and characters are indelibly engraven 
on the memory. His best creations are instinct with nature and truth. 
His tone is imiformly manly, fresh, and vigorous. He is always thor- 
oughly American. His style is national ; and when he died in the 
autumn of 1851, a voice of praise and regret seemed to rise all over the 
land, and a large and distinguished assembly convened soon'after, in 
New York, to listen to his eulogy — pronounced by the poet Bryant. 

Hawthorne is distinguished for the finish of his style, and the deli- 
cacy of his psychological insight. He combines the metaphysical 
talent of Brown with the refined diction of Irving. For a period of 
more than twenty years he contributed, at intervals, to annuals and 
magazines, the most exquisite fancy sketches and historical narratives, 
the merit of which was scarcelv recognized by the public at large, 
although cordially praised by the discriminating few. These papers 
have been recently collected under the title of T-vo ice- told Tales, and 
Mosses from an Old Alafise ; and, seen by the light of the author's 
present reputation, their grace, wisdom, and originality are now gen- 
erally acknowledged. But it is through the two romances entitled the 
Scarlet Letter, and the House of the Seven Gables, that Hawthorne's 
eminence has been reached. They are remarkable at once for a highly 
finished and beautiful style, the most charming artistic skill, and 



Chap. II.] AMERICAN LITERATURE. . 509 

intense characterization. To these intrinsic and universal claims they 
add that of native scenes and subjects. Imagine such an anatomizer 
of the human heart as Balzac, transported to a provincial town of New 
England, and giving to its houses, streets, and history the analytical 
power of his genius, and we realize the triumph of Hawthorne. Bravely* 
adopting familiar materials, he has thrown over them the light and 
shadow of his thoughtful mind, eliciting a deep significance and a pro- 
lific beauty : if we may use the expression, he is ideally true to the real. 
His invention is felicitous, his tone magnetic; his sphere borders on the 
supernatural, and yet a chaste expression and a refined sentiment under- 
lie his most earnest utterance; he is more suggestive than dramatic. 
The early history of New England has found no such genial and vivid 
illustration as his pages afford. At all points his genius touches the 
interests of human life, now overflowing with a love of external nature 
as gentle as that of Thomson, now intent upon the quaint or character- 
istic in life with a humor as zestful as that of Lamb, now developing 
the horrible or pathetic with something of John Webster's dramatic 
terror, and again buoyant with a fantasy as aerial as Shelley's concep- 
tions. And, in each instance, the staple of charming invention is 
adorned with the purest graces of style. Hawthorne was born in Salem, 
Massachusetts, educated at Bowdoin College, and after having filled an 
office in the Salem custom-house, and the post-office of his native town, 
lived a A'ear on a community farm, and acted as United States consul 
at Liverpool for several years, was settled in the pleasant country town 
of Concord, Mass. He died with the pure and permanent fame of 
genius, having embalmed the experience he enjoyed in Italy and Eng- 
land in the romances of the Marble Faun and Our Old Home. 

" What we admire in this writer's genius is his felicity in the use of 
common materials. It is very difficult to give an imaginative scope to 
a scene or a topic which familiarity has robbed of illusion. It is by the 
association of ideas, by the halo of remembrance and the magic of love, 
that an object usually presents itself to the mind under fanciful rela- 
tions. From a foreign country our native spot becomes picturesque ; 
and froin the hill of manhood the valley of youth appears romantic; 
but that is a peculiar and rare mental alchemy which can transmute the 
dross of the common and the immediate into gold. Yet so doth Haw- 
thorne. His Old Apple Dealer yet sits by the Old South Church, and 
the Willey House is inscribed every summer-day by the penknives of 
ambitious cits. He is able to illustrate, by his rich invention, places 
and themes that are before our very eyes and in our daily speech. His 
fancy is as free of wing at the north end of Boston, or on Salem turn- 
pike, as that of other poets in the Vale of Cashmere or amid the Isles 
of Greece. He does not seem to feel the necessity of distance, either of 
time or space, to realize his enchantments. He has succeeded in at- 
taching an ethereal interest to home subjects, which is no small triumph. 
Somewhat of that poetic charm which Wilson has thrown over Scottish 
life in his Lights and Skadozvs, and Irving over English in his Skefch- 
Book; and Lamb over metropolitan in his Elia, has Hawthorne cast 
around New England, and his tales here and there blend, as it were, 
43* 



510 ' A SKETCH OF [Chap. IL 

the traits which endear these authors. His best efforts are those in 
which the human predominates. Ingenuity and moral significancy are 
finely displaj^ed, it is true, in his allegories; but sometimes they are 
coldly fanciful, and do not win the sympathies as in those instances 
where the play of the heart relieves the dim workings of the abstract 
and supernatural. Hawthorne, like all individualities, must be read in 
the appropriate mood. This secret of appreciation is now understood 
as regards Wordsworth. It is due to all genuine authors. To many, 
whose mental aliment has been exciting and coarse, the delicacy, meek 
beauties, and calm spirit of these writings will but gradually unfold 
themselves ; but those capable of placing themselves in relation with 
Hawthorne will discover a native genius for which to be grate^'ul and 
proud, and a brother whom to know is to love. He certainly has done 
much to obviate the reproach which a philosophical writer, not without 
reason, has cast upon our authors, when he asserts their object to be to 
astonish rather than please." * 

There is a host of intermediate authors between the three already 
described in this sphere of literature, of various and high degrees, both 
of merit and reputation, but whose traits are chiefly analogous to those 
of the prominent writers we have surveyed. Some of them have ably 
illustrated local themes, others excelled in scenic limning, and a few 
evinced genius for characterization. Paulding, for instance, in West- 
ivard Ho^ and Wxo. Dutchman's Fireside, has given admirable pictures 
of colonial life ; Richard H. Dana, in the Idle Man, has two or three 
remarkable psychological tales ; Timothy Flint, James Hall, Thomas, 
and more recently M'Connell, of Illinois, have written very graphic and 
spirited novels of western life ; John P. Kennedy, of Baltimore, has 
embalmed Virginia life in the olden time in Swallow Bam, and Fay 
that of modern New York ; Gilmore Simms, a prolific and vigorous 
novelist, in a similar form has embodied the traits of southern charac- 
ter and scenery; Hoffman, the early history of his native state; Dr. 
Robert Bird, of Philadelphia, those of Mexico; William Ware has 
rivalled Lockhart's classical romance in his Letters from Palmyra, and 
Probus ; Allston's artist-genius is luminous in Monaldi ; Judd in Mar- 
garet has related a tragic story arrayed in the very best hues and 
outlines of New England life ; and Edgar A. Poe, in his Tales of the 
Grotesque and Arabesque, evinces a genius in which a love of the 
marvellous and an intensity of conception are united with the wildest 
sympathies, as if the endowments of Mrs. Radcliffe and Coleridge were 
partially united in one mind. In adventurous and descriptive narration 
we have Melville and Mayo. John Neal struck off at a heat some half- 
score of novels that, at least, illustrate a facility quite remarkable; and, 
indeed, from the days of the Algerine Captive and th(^ Foresters — the 
first attempts at such writing in this country — to the present day, there 
has been no lack of native fictions. The minor specimens which 
possess the highest literary excellence are by Irving, Willis, and Long- 
fellow; but their claims rest entirely on style and sentiment; they are 
brief and polished, but more graceful than impressive. 

♦ Leaves from the Diary of a Dreamer. 



Chap. III.] AMERICAN LITERATURE. 511 

CHAPTER III. 

POETRY. 

Its essential Conditions. Freneau and the early Metrical Writers. Mum- 
ford, Cliffton, Allston, and others. Pierpont. Dana. Hillhouse. 
Sprague. Percival. Halleck. Drake. Hoffman. "Willis. Long- 
fellow. Holmes. Lowell. Boker. Favorite Single Poems. Descrip- 
tive Poetry. Street, Whittier, and others. Brainard. Song-Writers. 
Other Poets. Female Poets. Bryant. 

" It has been well otfserved by an English critic, that poetry is not a 
branch of authorship. The vain endeavor to pervert its divine and 
spontaneous agency into a literary craft is the great secret of its decline. 
Poetry is the overflowing of the soul. It is the record of what is best 
in the world. No product of the human mind is more disinterested. 
Hence comparatively few keep the poetic element alive beyond the 
period of youth. All that is genuine in the art springs from vivid 
experience, and life seldom retains any novel aspect to those who have 
long mingled in its scenes, and staked upon its chances. A celebrated 
artist of our day, when asked the process by which his delineations 
were rendered so effective, replied that he drew them altogether from 
memory. Natural objects were portrayed, not as they impressed him 
at the moment, but according to the lively and feeling phases in which 
they struck his senses in boyhood. For this reason it has been truly 
observed, that remembrance makes the poet; and, according to Words- 
worth, 'emotions recollected in tranquillity' form the true source of 
inspiration. A species of literature depending upon conditions so 
delicate is obviously not to be successfully cultivated by those who hold 
it in no reverence. The great distinction between verse-writers and 
poets is, that the former seek and the latter receive ; the one attempt to 
command, the other meekly obey the higher impulses of their being." * 

The first metrical compositions in this country, recognized by popu- 
lar sympathy, were the effusions of Philip Freneau, a political writer 
befriended by Jefferson. He wrote many songs and ballads in a patri- 
otic and historical vein, which attracted and somewhat reflected the 
feelings of his contemporaries, and were not destitute of merit. Their 
success was owing, in part, to the immediate interest of the subjects, 
and in part to musical versification and pathetic sentiment. One of 
his Indian ballads has survived the general neglect to which more 
artistic skill and deeper significance in poetry have banished the mass 
of his verses : to the curious in metrical writings, however, they yet 
afford a characteristic illustration of the taste and spirit of the times. 
Freneau was born in 1752, and died in 1832. The antecedent speci« 

* Thoughts on the Poets. 



512 A SKETCH OF [Chap. III. 

mens of verse in America were, for the most part, the occasional work 
of the clergj, and are remarkable chiefly for a quaint and monotonous 
strain, grotesque rhymed versions of the Psalms, and tolerable attempts 
at descriptive poems. The writings of Mrs. Bradstreet, Governoi 
Bradford, Roger Williams, Cotton Mather, and the wittj-- Dr. Byles, 
in this department, are now only familiar to the antiquarian. Frank- 
lin's friend Ralph, and Thomas Godfrey, of Philadelphia, indicate the 
dawn of a more liberal era, illustrated by Trumbull, Dwight, Hum- 
phreys, Alsop, and Honeywood; passages from whose poems show a 
marked improvement in diction, a more refined scholarship, and gen- 
uine sympathy with nature; but, although in a literary point of view 
they are respectable performances, and, for the period and locality of 
their composition, suggestive of a rare degree of taste, there are too 
few salient points, and too little of an original spirit, to justify any 
claim to high poetical genius. One of the most remarkable efforts 
in this branch of letters, at the epoch in question, was doubtless Wil- 
liam Mumford's translation of the Iliad — a work that, when published, 
elicited some authentic critical praise. He was a native of Virginia, 
and his great undertaking was only finished a short period before his 
death, which occurred in 1825. The verses which have the earliest 
touch of true sensibility and that melody of rhj'thm which seems intui- 
tive, are the few bequeathed by William Cliffton, of Philadelphia, born 
in 1772. After him we trace the American muse in the patriotic songs 
of R. T. Paine, and the scenic descriptions of Paulding, until she 
began a loftier though brief flight in the fanciful poems of Allston. 

"In the moral economy of life, sensibility to the beautiful must have 
a great purpose. If the Platonic doctrine of pre-existence be true, 
perhaps ideality is the surviving element of our primal life. Some 
individuals seem born to minister to this influence, which, under the 
name of beauty, sentiment, or poetry, is the source of what is most 
exalting in our inmost experience and redeeming in our outward life. 
Does not a benign Providence watch over these priests of nature.-* 
They are not necessarily renowned. Their agency may be wholly 
social and private, yet none the less efficient. We confess that, to us, 
few arguments for the benevolent and infinite design of existence are 
more impressive than the fact that such beings actually live, and, wholly 
unfitted as they are to excel in or even conform to the Practical, bear 
evidence, not to be disputed, of the sanctity, the tranquil progress, : nd 
the serene faith, that dwell in the Ideal. Washington Allston was such 
a man. He was born in South Carolina in 1779, and died at Cam- 
bridge, Mass., in 1843. By profession he was a painter, and his works 
overflow with genius; still it would be difficult to say whether his pen, 
his pencil, or his tongue chiefly made known that he was a prophet of the 
true and beautiful. He believed not in any exclusive development. It 
was the spirit of a man, and not his dexterity or success, by which he test- 
ed character. In painting, reading, or writing, his mornings were occu- 
pied, and at night he was at the service of his friends. Beneath his 
humble roof, in his latter years, there were often a flow of wit, a com- 



Chap. III.] AMERICAN LITERATURE. 513 

munitj of mind, and a generous exercise of sympathy which kings 
might envy. To the eye of the multitude his Hfe ghded away in se- 
cluded contentment, yet a prevailing idea was the star of his being — 
the idea of beauty For the high, the lovely, the perfect, he strove all 
his days. He sought them in the scenes of nature, in the master- 
pieces of literature and art, in habits of life, in social relations, and in 
love. Without pretence, without elation, in all meekness, his youthful 
enthusiasm chastened by suftering, he lived above the world. Gentle- 
ness he deemed true wisdom, renunciation of all the trappings of life 
a duty. He was calm, patient, occasionally sad, but for the most part 
happy in the free exercise and guardianship of his varied powers. His 
sonnets are interesting as records of personal feeling. They eloquently 
breathe sentiments of intelligent admiration or sincere friendship; 
while the Syip/is of the Season and other longer poems show a great 
command of language and an exuberant fancy. 

" On his return to America, the life of our illustrious painter was one 
of comparative seclusion. The state of his health, devotion to his art, 
and a distaste for promiscuous society and the bustle of the world, ren- 
dered this course the most judicious he could have pursued. His hum- 
ble retirement was occasionally invaded by foreigners of distinction, 
to whom his name had become precious; and sometimes a votary of 
letters or art entered his dwelling, to gratify admiration or seek coun- 
sel and encouragement. To such, an unaffected and sincere welcome 
was always given, and they left his presence refreshed and happy. The 
instances of timely sympathy which he afforded young and baffled 
aspirants are innumerable. 

" Allston's appearance and manners accorded perfectly with his char- 
acter. His form was slight, and his movements quietly active. The 
lines of his countenance, the breadth of the brow, the large and speak- 
ing eye, and the long, white hair, made him an immediate object of 
interest. If not engaged in conversation, there was a serene abstrac- 
tion in his air. "When death so tranquilly overtook him, for many 
hours it was difflcult to believe that he was not sleeping, so perfectly 
did the usual expression remain. His torchlight burial harmonized, 
in its beautiful solemnity, with the bright and thoughtful tenor of his 
life." * 

John Pierpont, a Unitarian clergyman of Massachusetts, has written 
numerous hymns and odes for religious and national occasions, re- 
markable for their variety of difflcult metres, and for the felicity both 
of the rhythm, sentiment, and expression. His Airs of Palestine, a 
long poem in heroic verse, has many eloquent passages; and several 
of his minor pieces, especially those entitled Passing Azvay and Afy 
Child, are striking examples of effective versification. The most pop- 
ular of his occasional poems is The Pilgrim Fathers, an ode written 
for the anniversary of the landing at Plymouth, and embodying in 
truly musical verse the sentiment of the memorable day. 

* Artist-Life, or Sketches of American Painters. 



514 A SKETCH OF [Chap. IIL 

Richard H. Dana is the most psychological of American poets. His 
Buccaneer has several descriptive passages of singular terseness and 
beauty, although there is a certain abruptness in the metre chosen. 
The scenery and phenomena of the ocean are evidently familiar to his 
observation ; the tragic and remorseful elements in humanity exert a 
powerful influence over his imagination; while the mysteries and 
aspirations of the human soul fill and elevate his mind. The result is 
an introspective tone, a solemnity of mood lightened occasionally by 
touches of pathos or beautiful pictures. There is a compactness, a 
pointed truth to the actual, in many of his rhymed pieces, and a high 
music in some of his blank verse, which suggest greater poetical genius 
than is actually exhibited. His taste evidently inclines to Shakspeare, 
Milton, and the old English dramatists, his deep appreciation of whom 
he has manifested in the most subtle and profound criticisms. Of 
his minor pieces, the Intimations of Ijnmortality and The Little 
Beach-Bird are perhaps the most characteristic of his two phases of 
expression. 

James A. Hillhouse excelled in a species of poetic literature, which, 
within a few years, has attained eminence from the fine illustrations of 
Taylor, Browning, Home, Talfourd, and other men of genius in Eng- 
land. It may be called the written drama, and, however unfit for rep- 
resentation, is unsurpassed for bold, noble, and exquisite sentiment and 
imagery. The name of Hillhouse is associated with the beautiful elms 
of New Haven, beneath whose majestic boughs he so often walked. 
His home in the neighborhood of this rural city was consecrated by 
elevated tastes and domestic virtue. He there, in the intervals of busi- 
ness, led the life of a true scholar; and the memorials of this existence 
are his poems Hadad, The yudgment, Percy's Masque^ Demetria, and 
others. In the two former, his scriptural erudition and deep percep- 
tions of the Jewish character, and his sense of religious truth, are 
evinced in the most carefully finished and nobly-conceived writings. 
Their tone is lofty, often sublime ; the language is finely chosen, and 
there is about them evidence of gradual and patient labor rare in 
American literature. On every page we recognize the Christian schol- 
ar and gentleman, the secluded bard, and the chivalric student of the 
past. Percy's Masque reproduces the features of an era more im- 
pressed with knightly character than any in the annals of England. 
Hillhouse moves in that atmosphere quite as gracefully as among the 
solemn and venerable traditions of the Hebrew faith. His dramatic 
and other pieces are the first instances, in this country, of artistic 
skill in the higher and more elaborate spheres of poetic writing. He 
possessed the scholarship, the leisure, the dignitj of taste, and the 
noble sympathy requisite thus to "build the lofty rhyme; "and his 
volumes, though unattractive to the mass of readers, have a permanent 
interest and value to the refined, the aspiring, and the disciplined 
mind. 

Charles Sprague has been called the Rogers of America; and there 
is an analogy between them in two respects — the careful finish of 



Chap. III.] AMERICAN- LITERATURE. 515 

their verses, and their financial occupation. The American poet first 
attracted notice by two or three theatrical prize addresses ; and his suc- 
cess, in this regard, attained its climax in a Shakspeare Ode which 
grouped the characters of the great poet with an effect so striking and 
happy, and in a rhythm so appropriate and impressive, as to recall the 
best efforts of Collins and Dryden united. A similar composition, more 
elaborate, is his ode delivered on the second centennial anniversary of 
the settlement of Boston, his native city. A few domestic pieces, re- 
markable for their simplicity of expression and truth of feeling, soon 
became endeared to a large circle ; but the performance which has ren- 
dered Sprague best known to the country as a poet is his metrical essay 
on Curiosity, delivered in 1829 before the literary societies of Harvard 
University. It is written in heroic measure, and recalls the couplets of 
Pope. The choice of a theme was singularly fortunate. He traces the 
passion which ** tempted Eve to sin " through its loftiest and most 
vulgar manifestations; atone moment rivalling Crabbe in the lowli- 
ness of his details, and at another Campbell in the aspiration of his 
song. The serious and the comic alternate on every page. Good sense 
is the basis of the work; fancj^ wit, and feeling warm and vivify it; 
and a nervous tone and finished versification, as well as excellent choice 
of words, impart a glow, polish, and grace that at once gratify the ear 
and captivate the mind. 

James G. Percival has been a copious writer of verses, some of which, 
from their even and sweet flow, their aptness of epithet and natural 
sentiment, have become household and school treasures ; such as 
The Coral Grove, New England, and Seneca Lake. His command 
both of language and metre is remarkable; his acquirements were 
very extensive ^d various, and his life eccentric. Perhaps a facile 
power of expression has tended to limit his poetic fame, by inducing a 
diffuse, careless, and unindividual method; although choice pieces 
enough can easily be gleaned from his voluminous writings to consti- 
tute a just and rare claim to renown and sympathy. 

The poems of Fitz-Greene Halleck, although limited in quantity, are, 
perhaps, the best known and most cherished, especially in the latitude 
of New York, of all American verses. This is owing, in no small de- 
gree, to their spirited, direct, and intelligible character, the absence of 
all vagueness and mysticism, and the heartfelt or humorous glow of real 
inspiration; and in a measure, perhaps, it can be traced to the prestige 
of his youthful fame, when, associated with his friend Drake, he used 
to charm the town with the admirable local verses that appeared in the 
journals of the day, under the signature of Croaker and Co. His theory 
of poetic expression is that of the most popular masters of English 
verse — manly, clear, vivid, warm with genuine emotion, or sparkling 
with true wit. The more recent style of metrical writing, suggestive 
rather than emphatic, undefined and involved, and borrowed mainly 
from German idealism, he utterly repudiates. All his verses have a 
vital meaning, and the clear ring of pure metal. They are few, but 
memorable. The school-boy and the old Knickerbocker both know 



516 A SKETCH OF [Chap III. 

them by heart. In his serious poems he belongs to the same school as 
Campbell, and in his lighter pieces reminds us of Bepf>o and the best 
parts of Do7i Juan. Fanny^ conceived in the latter vein, has the point 
of a fine local satire gracefully executed. Biirns^ 2iw6. the lines on the 
death of Drake, have the beautiful impressiveness of the highest elegiac 
verse. Marco Bozzaris is perhaps the best martial lyric in the lan- 
guage, Red Jacket the most effective Indian portrait, and T'lvilight 
an apt piece of contemplative verse ; w^hile Alnwick Castle combines 
his grave and gay style with inimitable art and admirable effect. As a 
versifier, he is an adept in that relation of sound to sense which embalms 
thought in deathless melody. An unusual blending of the animal and 
intellectual with that full proportion essential to manhood, enables him 
to utter appeals that wake responses in the universal heart. An almost 
provoking mixture of irony and sentiment is characteristic of his genius. 
Born in Connecticut, his life has been chiefly passed in the city of New 
York, and occupied in mercantile affairs. He is a conservative in taste 
and opinions, but his feelings are chivalric, and his sjTnpathies ardent 
and loyal ; and these, alternating with humor, glow and sparkle in the 
most spirited and harmonious lyrical compositions ©f the American 
muse. 

"Centuries hence, perchance, some lover of 'The Old American 
Writers ' will speculate as ardently as Monkbarns himself about the site 
of Sleepy Hollow. Then the Hudson will possess a classic interest, and 
the associations of genius and patriotism may furnish themes to illus- 
trate its matchless scenery. The Culprit Fay will then be quoted with 
enthusiasm. Imagination is a perverse faculty. Why should the ruins 
of a feudal castle add enchantment to a knoll of the Catskills ? Are not 
the Palisades more ancient than the aqueducts of the Roman Cam- 
pagna.? Can bloody tradition or superstitious legends really enhance 
the picturesque impression derived from West Point.? The heart for- 
ever asserts its claim. Primeval nature is often coldly grand in the view 
of one who loves and honors his race; and the outward world is only 
brought near to his spirit when linked with human love and suffering, 
or consecrated by heroism and faith. Yet, if there ever was a stream 
romantic in itself, superior, from its own wild beauty, to all extraneous 
charms, it is the Hudson. Who ever sailed between its banks and 
scanned its jutting headlands — the perpendicular cliffs — the meadows 
over which alternate sunshine and cloud — umbrageous woods, masses 
of gray rock, dark cedar groves, bright grain-fields, tasteful cottages, 
and fairy-like sails ; who, after thus feasting both sense and soul through 
a summer day, has, from a secluded nook of those beautiful shores, 
watched the moon rise and tip the crystal ripples with light, and not 
echoed the appeal of the bard ? — 

* Tell me — where'er thy silver bark be steering, 

By bright Italian or soft Persian lands, 
Or o'er those island-studded seas careering, 
Whose pearl-charged waves dissolve on coral strands ; 



Chap. III.] AMERICAN LITERATURE. 517 

Tell, if thou visitest, thou heavenly rover, 
A lovelier scene than this the wide world over.* * 
" It was where 

* The moon looks do^vn on old Cr^^'nest, 
And mellows the shade on his s -aggy breast,* 

that Drake laid the scene of his poem. The story is of simple construc- 
tion. The fairies are called together, at this chosen hour, not to join 
in dance or revel, but to sit in judgment on one of their number who 
has broken his vestal vow. Evil sprites, both of the air and water, 
oppose the Fay in his mission of penance. He is sadly baffled and 
tempted, but at length conquers all difficulties, and his triumphant re- 
turn is hailed with ' dance and song, and lute and lyre.' 

"It is in the imagery of the poem that Drake's genius is preeminent. 
What, for instance, can be more ingenious than the ordeals prescribed, 
had any ' spot or taint' In his ladye-love deepened the Fay's sacrilege? 
Most appropriate tortures, .these, for a fairy inquisition ! Even without 
the metrical accompaniment, how daintily conceived are all the appoint- 
ments of the fairies ! Their lanterns were ojvlet's eyes. Some of them 
repose in cobweb hammocks, swinging, perhaps, on tufted spears of 
grass, and rocked by the zephyrs of a midsummer night. Others make 
their beds of lichen-green, pillowed by the breast-plumes of the hum- 
ming-bird. A few, whose taste for upholstery is quite magnificent, find 
a couch in the purple shade of the four-o'clock, or the little niches of rock 
lined with dazzling mica. The table of these minikin epicureans is a 
mushroom, whose velvet surface and Qiiaker hue make it a very respec- 
table festal board at which to drink dew from buttercups. The king's 
throne is of sassafras and spice-wood, with tortoise-shell pillars, and 
crimson tulip-leaves for drapery. But the quaint shifts and beautiful 
outfit of the Culprit himself comprise the most delectable imagery of 
the poem. He is worn out with fatigue and chagrin at the very com- 
mencement of his journey, and therefore makes captive of a spotted toad, 
by way of a steed. Having bridled her with silk-weed twist, his prog- 
ress is rapid by dint of lashing her sides with an osier thong. Arrived 
at the beach, he launches fearlessly upon the tide, for among his other 
accomplishments, the Fay is a graceful swimmer; but his tender limbs 
are so bruised by leeches, star-fish, and other watery enemies, that he 
is soon driven back. 

"The materia viedtca of Fairj'-land is always accessible; and cob- 
web lint, and balsam dew of sorrel and henban^, speedily relieve the 
little penitent's wounds. Having refreshed himself with the juice of the 
calamus root, he returns to the shore, and selects a neatly-shaped muscle 
shell, brightly painted without, and tinged with pearl within. Nature 
seemed to have formed it expressly for a fairy-boat. Having notched 
the stern, and gathered a colen bell to bale with, he sculls into the midst 
of the river, laughing at his old foes as they grin and chatter around 
his way. There, in the sweet moonlight, he sits until a sturgeon 

* Hoffman's Moonlig it on the Hudson. 
44 



518 A SKETCH OF [Chap. III. 

comes by, and leaps, all glistening, into the silvery atmosphere; then 
balancing his delicate frame upon one foot, like a Lilliputian Mercury, 
he lifts the flowery cup, and catches the one sparkling drop that is to 
wash the stain from his wing. Gay is his return voyage. Sweet 
nymphs clasp the boat's side with their tiny hands, and cheerily urge 
it onward. His next enterprise is of a more knightly species ; and he 
proceeds to array himself accordingly, as becomes a fairy cavalier. His 
acorn helmet is plumed with thistle-down, a bee's nest forms his corse- 
let, and his cloak is of butterflies' wings. With a lady-bug's shell for a 
shield, and wasp-sting lance, spurs of cockle-seed, a bow made of vine- 
twig, strung with maize-silk, and well supplied with nettle-shafts, he 
mounts his firefly Bucephalus, and waving his blade of blue grass, 
speeds upward to catch a * glimmering spark ' from some flying meteor. 
Again the spirits of evil are let loose upon him, and the upper elements 
are not more friendly than those below. Fays are as hardly beset, it 
seems, as we of coarser clay, by temptations in a feminine shape. A 
sylphid queen of the skies, ' the loveliest of the forms of light,' enchants 
the wanderer by her beautyand kindness. But though she played very 
archly with the butterfly cloak, and handled the tassel of his blade 
while he revealed to her pitying ear the 'dangers he had passed,' the 
memory of his first love and the object of pilgrimage kept his heart 
free. Escorted with great honor by the sylph's lovely train, his career 
is resumed, and his flame-wood lamp at length rekindled, and before 
the ' sentry elf proclaims ' a streak in the eastern sky,' the Culprit has 
been welcomed to all his original glory. 

" It will be observed that the materials — the costume, as it were — 
of this fairy tale are of native and familiar origin. The effect is cer- 
tainly quite as felicitous as that of many similar productions where the 
countless flowers and rich legends of the East furnish the poet with an 
exhaustless mine of pleasing images. It has been remarked that the 
dolphin and flying-fish are the only poetical members of the finny 
tribes ; but who, after reading the Culprit Fay, will ever hear the plash 
of a sturgeon in the moon-lit water without recalling the genius of 
Drake.'' Indeed, the poem which we have thus cursorily examined is 
one of those happy inventions of fancy, superinduced upon fact, which 
afford unalloyed delight. There are various tastes as regards the style 
and spirit of different bards ; but no one, having the slightest percep- 
tion, will fail to realize at once that the Culprit Fay is a genuine poem. 
This is, perhaps, the-highest of praise. The mass of versified compo- 
sitions are tiot strictly poems. Here and there only the purely ideal is 
apparent. A series of poetical fragments are linked by rhymes to other 
and larger portions of commonplace and prosaic ideas. It is with the 
former as with moonbeams falling through dense foliage — they only 
checker our path with light. ' Poetry,' says Campbell, * should come 
to us in masses of ore, that require little sifting.' The poem before us 
ob3ys this important rule. It is * of imagination all compact.' It takes 
us completely away from the dull level of ordinary associations. As 
the portico of some beautiful temple, through it we are introduced into 



Chap. III.] AMERICAN LITERATURE. 519 

a scene of calm delight, where fancy asserts her joyous supremacy, and 
wooes us to forgetfulness of all outward evil, and to fresh recognition of 
the lovely in nature, and the graceful and gifted in humanity."* 

For some of the best convivial, amatory, and descriptive poetry of 
native origin, we are indebted to Charles Fenno Hoffman. The woods 
and streams, the feast and the vigil, are reflected in his verse with a 
graphic truth and sentiment that evidence an eye for the picturesque, 
a sense of the adventurous, and a zest for pleasure. He has written 
many admirable scenic pieces that evince not only a careful, but a 
loving observation of nature : some touches of this kind in the Vigil 
of Fait k are worthy of the most celebrated poets. Many of his songs, 
from their graceful flow and tender feeling, are highly popular, although 
some of the metres are so like those of Moore as to provoke a com- 
parison. They are, however, less tinctured with artifice ; and many 
of them have a spontaneous and natural vitality. 

The Scripture pieces of N. P. Willis, although the productions of his 
youth, have an individual beauty that renders them choice and valuable 
exemplars of American genius. In his other poems there is apparent 
a sense of the beautiful and a grace of utterance, often an exquisite 
imagery, and rich tone of feeling, that emphatically announce the 
poet; but in the chastened and sweet, as well as picturesque elaboration 
of the miracles of Christ, and some of the incidents recorded in the 
Bible, Willis succeeded in an experiment at once bold, delicate, and 
profoundly interesting. Melanie is a narrative in verse, full of imagi- 
native beauty and expressive music. The high finish, rare metaphors, 
verbal felicity, and graceful sentiment of his poems are sometimes 
marred by a doubtful taste that seems affectation ; but where he obeys 
the inspiration of nature and religious sentiment, the result is truly 
beautiful. A native of Maine, he has been an extensive traveller, and 
has gathered his illustrations from a wide range of observation and 
experience. 

Henry W. Longfellow has achieved an extended reputation as a poet, 
for which he is chiefly indebted to his philological aptitudes and his 
refined taste. Trained as a verbal artist by the discipline of a poetical 
translator, he acquired a tact and facility in the use of words, which 
great natural fluency and extreme fastidiousness enabled him to use to 
the utmost advantage. His poems are chiefly meditative, and have that 
legendary significance peculiar to the German ballad. They also often 
embody and illustrate a moral truth. There is little or no evidence of 
inspiration in his verse, as that term is used to suggest the power of 
an overmastering passion ; but there is a thoughtful, subdued feeling 
that seems to overflow in quiet beauty. It is, however, the manner in 
which this sentiment is expressed, the appositeness of the figures, the 
harmony of the numbers, and the inimitable choice of words that give 
effect to the composition. He often reminds us of an excellent mosaic 
worker, with his smooth table of polished marble indented to receive 

* Thoughts on the Poets. 



520 A SKETCH 6f [Chap. III. 

the precious stones that are lying at hand, which he calmly, pa,tiently, 
and with exquisite art, inserts in the shape of flowers and fruit. Al- 
most all Longfellow's poems are gems set with consummate taste. 
His Evatigelifie is a beautiful reflex of rural life and love, which, from 
the charm of its pictures and the gentle harmony of its sentiment, be- 
came popular, although written in hexameters. His Skeleton in Armor 
is the most novel and characteristic of his shorter poems; and his 
Psalms of Life and Excelsior are the most familiar and endeared. He 
is the artistic, as Halleck is the lyrical and Bryant the picturesque and 
philosophical, of American poets. 

The most concise, apt, and effective poet of the school of Pope, this 
country has produced, is Oliver Wendell Holmes, a Boston physician, 
and son of the excellent author of the Amials, long a minister of the 
parish of Cambridge, at which venerable seat of learning this accom- 
plished writer was "born. His best lines are a series of rhymed pic- 
tures, witticisms, or sentiments, let off with the precision and brilliancy 
of the scintillations that sometimes illumine the northern horizon. The 
significant terms, the perfect construction, and acute choice of syllables 
and emphasis, render some passages of Holmes absolute models of versi- 
fication, especially in the heroic measure. Besides these artistic merits, 
his poetry abounds with fine satire, beautiful delineations of nature, 
and amusing caricatures of manners. The long poems are metrical 
essa^^s, more pointed, musical, and judicious, as well as witty, than any 
that have appeared, of the same species, since the Essay on Alan and 
The Diinciad. His description of the art in which he excels is inimi- 
table, and illustrates all that it defines. His Old Ironsides— 3.r\ in- 
dignant protest against the destruction of the frigate Constitution — 
created a public sentiment that prevented the fulfilment of that ungra- 
cious design. His verses on Lending an old Punch Bowl are in the 
happiest vein of that form of writing. About his occasional pieces, 
there is an easy and vigorous tone like that of Praed ; and some of them 
are the liveliest specimens of finished verse yet written among us. His 
command of language, his ready wit, his concise and pointed style, the 
nervous, bright, and wise scope of his muse, now and then softened by 
a pathetic touch, or animated by a living picture, are qualities that have 
firmly established the reputation of Dr. Holmes as a poet, while in 
professional character and success he has been equally recognized. 

James R. Lowell, also the son of a clergyman and a native of Cam- 
bridge, unites, in his most effective poems, the dreamy, suggestive 
character of the transcendental bards with the philosophic simplicity 
of Wordsworth. He has written clever satires, good sonnets, and some 
long poems with fine descriptive passages. He reminds us often of 
Tennyson, in the sentiment and the construction of his verse. Imagi- 
nation and philanthropy are the dominant elements in his writings, 
some of which are marked by a graceful flow and earnest tone, and 
many unite with these attractions that of high finish. 

George H. Boker, the author of Calaynos^ An?te Boleyn, and other 
dramatic pieces, is a native and resident of Philadelphia. ** The glow 



Chap. III.] AMERICAN LITERATURE. 521 

of his images is chastened bj a noble simplicity, keeping them within 
the line of human sympathy and natural expression. He has followed 
the masters of dramatic writing with rare judgtnent. He also excels 
many gifted poets of his class in a quality essential to an acted play — 
spirit. To the tragic ability he unites aptitude for easy, colloquial, a«d 
jocose dialogue, such as must intervene in the genuine Shakspearian 
drama, to give relief and additional effect to high emotion. His 
language, also, rises often to the highest point of energy, pathos, and 
beauty."* 

A casual dalliance with the Muses is characteristic of our busy citizens, 
in all professions ; some of these poetical estrays have a permanent 
hold upon the popular taste and sympathy. Among them may be men- 
tioned Frisbie's Castle in the Air, Norton's Scene after a Summer 
S/iotver, Henry Ware's Address to the Ursa Major, Pinkney's verses 
entitled A Health, Palmer's ode to Light, Poe's Raven and The Bells, 
Cooke's Florence Vane, Parsons's Li?ics to a Bust of Dante, Wilde's Aly 
Life is like a Summer Rose, Albert G. Greene's Old Grimes, Butler's 
Nothi7ig to Wear, and Woodworth's Old Oaken Bucket. 

Extensive circulation is seldom to be hoped for works which appeal 
so faintly to the practical spirit of our times and people as the class we 
have thus cursorily examined. Yet, did space allow, we should be 
tempted into a somewhat elaborate argument, to prove that the cordial 
reception of such books agrees perfectly with genuine utilitarianism. 
As a people, it is generally conceded that we lack nationality of feeling. 
Narrow reasoners may think that this spirit is best promoted by absurd 
sensitiveness to foreign comm.ents or testy alertness in regard to what 
is called national honor. We incline to the opinion, founded on well- 
established facts, both of history and human nature, that the best way 
to make an individual true to his political obligations is to promote his 
love of country; and experience shows that this is mainly induced by 
cherishing high and interesting associations in relation to his native 
land. Every well-recorded act honorable to the state, every noble deed 
consecrated by the effective pen of the historian, or illustrated in the 
glowing page of the novelist, tends wonderfully to such a result. Have 
not the hearts of the Scotch nurtured a deeper patriotism since Sir 
Walter cast into the furrows of time his peerless romances.? No light 
part in this elevated mission is accorded to the poet. Dante and 
Petrarch have done much to render Italy beloved. Beranger has given 
no inadequate expression to those feelings which bind soldier, artisan, 
and peasant to the soil of France. Here the bard can draw only upon 
brief chronicles, but God has arrayed this continent with a sublime and 
characteristic beauty, that should endear its mountains and streams to 
the American heart; and whoever ably depicts the natural glory of the 
countrj' touches a chord which should yield responses of admiration 
and loj'alty. In this point of view alone, then, we deem the minstrel 
who ardently sings of forest and sky, river and highland, as eminently 

* Characteristics of Literature. Second Series. 

AA * 



522 A SKETCH OF [Chap. III. 

worthy of recognition. This merit may be clr.imed for Aalfred B. 
Street, of Albany, who was born and reared amid the most picturesque 
scenery of the State of New York. That he is deficient occasionally in 
high finish — that there is repetition and monotony in his strain — that 
there are redundant epithets and a lack of variety in his effusions, is 
undeniable ; and having frankly granted all this to the critics, we feel at 
liberty to utter his just praise with equal sincerity. Street has an eye 
for Nature in all her moods. He has not roamed the woodlands in 
vain, nor have the changeful seasons passed him by without leaving 
vivid and lasting impressions. These his verse records with unusual 
fidelity and genuine emotion. I have wandered with him on a sum- 
mer's afternoon, in the neighborhood of his present residence, and, 
stretched upon the greensward, listened to his woodland talk, and can 
therefore testify that he observes con amore the play of shadows, the 
twinkle of swaying herbage in the sunshine, and all the phenomena 
that makes the outward world so rich in meaning to the attentive gaze. 
He is a true Flemish painter, seizing upon objects in all their verisimili- 
tude. As we read him, wild flowers peer up from among the brown 
leaves; the drum of the partridge, the ripple of waters, the flickering of 
autumn light, the sting of sleety snow, the cry of the panther, the roar 
of the winds, the melody of birds, and the odor of crushed pine boughs, 
are present to our senses. In a foreign land his poems would transport 
us at once to home. He is no second-hand limner, content to furnish 
insipid copies, but draws from reality. His pictures have the freshness 
of originals. They are graphic, detailed, never untrue, and often 
vigorous. He is essentially an American poet. His. range is limited, 
and he has had the good sense not to wander from his sphere, candidly 
acknowledging that the heart of man has not furnished him the food 
for meditation which inspires a higher class of poets. He is emphati- 
cally an observer. In England we notice that these qualities have been 
recognized. His Lost Hunter has been finely illustrated there, thus 
affording the best evidence of the picturesque fertility of his muse. 
Many of his pieces also glow with patriotism. His Gray Forest Eagle 
is a noble lyric, full of spirit; his Forest Scenes are minutely, and at 
the same time elaborately, true. His Indian legends and descriptions 
of the seasons have a native zest we have rarely encountered. Without 
the classic refinement of Thomson, he excels him in graphic power. 
There is nothing metaphysical in his tone of mind, or highly artistic 
in his style. But there is an honest directness and cordial faithfulness 
about him that strikes us as remarkably appropriate and manly. 
Delicacy, sentiment, ideal enthusiasm, are not his by nature ; but clear, 
bold, genial insight and feeling he possesses in a rare degree, and his 
poems worthily depict the phases of Nature, as she displays herself in 
this land, in all her picturesque wildness, solemn magnificence, and 
serene beauty. 

To the descriptive talent as related to natural scenery, which we have 
noted as the gift of our best poets, John G. Whittier unites the enthu- 
siasm of the reformer and the sympathies of the patriot. There is a 



Chap. III.] AMERICAN LITERATURE. 523 

prophetic anathema and a bard-like invc/cation in some of his pieces. 
He is a true son of New England, and, beneath the calm, fraternal 
bearing of the Quaker, nurses the imaginative ardor of a devotee both 
of nature and humanity. The early promise of Brainard, his fine 
poetic observation and sensibility, enshrined in several pleasing lyrics, 
and his premature death, are analogous to the career of Henry Kirke 
White. John Neal has w^ritten some odes, carelessly put together, but 
having memorable passages. Emerson has published a small volume 
of quaint rhymes ; Croswell wrote several short but impressive church 
poems, in which he has been ably followed by Cleveland Cox ; Bayard 
Taylor's California ballads are full of truth, spirit, and melody, and his 
*' Picture of St. John," a melodious and graphic metrical tale ; Albert 
Pike, of Arkansas, is the author of a series of hymns to the gods, after 
the manner of Keats, which have justly commanded favorable notice; 
Willis G. Clarke is remembered for his few but touching and finished 
elegiac pieces. Epes Sargent's Poems of tJie Sea are worthy of the 
subject, both in sentiment and style. F. S. Key, of Baltimore, was the 
author of the Star-Spanglcd Banner, and Judge Hopkinson, of Phila- 
delphia, wrote Hail, Columbia. George P. Morris, among the honored 
contributors to American poetry,* whose pieces are more or less 
familiar, is recognized as the song-writer of America. 

A large number of graceful versifiers, and a few writers of poetical 
genius, have arisen among the women of America. Southey has record- 
ed, in no measured terms, his estimation of Mrs. Brooks, the author 
of Zopkiel. The sentiment and melody of Mrs. Welby have made the 
name of Amelia precious in the west. Mrs. Sigourney's metrical 
writings are cherished by a large portion of the New England religious 
public. The Sinless Child of Mrs. Oakes Smith is a melodious and 
imaginative poem, with many verses of graphic and metaphysical 
significance. The occasional pieces of Mrs. Embury, Mrs. Whitman, 
Mrs. Hewitt, and Miss Lynch are thoughtful, earnest, and artistic. 
The facility, playfulness, and ingenious conception of Mrs. Osgood 
rendered her a truly gifted im^provvisatrice. Miss Gould has written 
several pretty fanciful little, poems, and Miss Sara Clark's Ariadne 
is worthy of Mrs. Norton. The Davidsons are instances of rare, 
though melancholy precocity in the art. The moral purity, love of 
nature, domestic affection, and graceful expression which characterize 
the writings of our female poets, are remarkable. Many of them enjoy 

* Among them are Hill, Godwin, Mellen, Griffin, Ware, Doane, Colton, 
Rockwell, Sanford, Ward, GakigVfr, Aldrich, J. F. Clarke, Hosmer, Burleigh, 
Noble, Hirst, Read, Matthews, Lord, Wallace, Legare, Miller, Walter, East- 
burn, Barker, Schoolcraft, Tappan, Jackson, Meek, Seba Smith, Thacher, Pea- 
body, EUery, Channing, Snelling, Murray, Fay, C. C. Moore, J. G. Brooks, A. 
G. Greene, Bethune, Carlos Wilcox, Frisbie, Goodrich, Clason, Leggett, Fair- 
field, Dawes, Bright, Conrad, Prentice, Simms, John H. Bryant, Lawrence, 
Benjamin, Very, Cutter, Cranch, Peabody, Steadman, Huntington, Si^xe, 
Dewey, Fields, Hoyt, Stoddard. For biographical notices and a critical estimate 
of these metrical writers, with specimens of their verse, the reader is referred to 
Griswold's Poets and Poetry of America ^ last edition. 



524 A SKETCH OF [Chap. III. 

a high local reputation, and their effusions are quoted with zeal at the 
fireside. Taste rather than profound sympathies, sentiment rather than 
passion, and fancy more than imagination, are evident in these spon- 
taneous, gentle, and often picturesque poems. They usually are more 
creditable to the refinement and pure feelings, than to the creative 
power or original style of the authors. Among a reading people, how- 
ever, like our own, these beautiful native flowers, scattered by loving 
hands, are sweet mementos and tokens of ideal culture and gentle 
enthusiasm, in delightful contrast to the prevailing hardihood and 
materialism of character.* 

In the felicitous use of native materials, as well as in the religious 
sentiment and love of freedom, united with skill as an artist, William 
Cullen Bryant is recognized as the best representative of American 
poetry ; and we cannot better close this brief survey of native literature 
than by an examination of his poems ; in which the traits of our 
scenery, the spirit of our institutions, and the devotional faith that 
proved the conservative element in our history, are all consecrated by 
poetic art. 

The first thought which suggests itself in regard to Bryant is his 
respect for the art which he has so nobly illustrated. This is not less 
commendable than rare. Such an impatient spirit of utility prevails in 
our country, that even men of ideal pursuits are often infected by it. 
It is a leading article in the Yankee creed to turn every endowment to 
account; and although a poet is generally left "to chew the cud of 
sweet and bitter fancies " as he lists, occasions are not infrequent when 
even his services are available. Caliban's lowly toil will not supply all 
needs. The more " gentle spiriting " of Ariel is sometimes desired. 
To subserve the objects of party, to acquire a reputation upon which 
cfiice may be sought, and to gratify personal ambition, the American 
poet is often tempted to sacrifice his true fanlfe and the dignity of Art 
to the demands of Occasion. To this weakness Bryant has been almost 

* For a very complete and interesting survey of this class of writings, the 
reader is referred to Griswold's Female Poets of America. His list comprises 
nearly a hundred names ; the biographical sketches afford a good insight into the 
domestic culture of the nation ; and the specimens are various, and often beau- 
tiful, including, besides the writers of colonial and revolutionary times, and those 
already mentioned, the names of Miss To^vnsend, Mrs. Oilman, Mrs. Hale, Mrs. 
Wells, Miss James, Mrs. Ward, Mrs. Ware, Mrs. Gray, Mrs. Little, Mrs. Child, 
Mrs. Hall, Mrs. Folleii, Mrs. Green, Miss Taggart, BIrs. Canfield, Miss Bogart, 
Mrs. Mary E. Brooks, Mrs. Loud, Mrs. Chandler, Mrs. Barnes, Mrs. Kinney, 
Mrs. EUett, Mrs. Scott, Mrs. Dinnies, Mrs. Stephens, Mrs. St. John, Mrs. L. P. 
Smith, Mrs. Oliver, Miss Mary E. Lee, Mrs. Esling, Mrs. Sawyer, Mrs. Bailey, 
Mrs. Thurston, Miss Day, Mrs. Dodd, Mrs. Judson, Mrs. Eames, Mrs. Emeline 
Smith, Miss Fuller, Mrs. Pierson, Mrs. Worthington, Mrs. Lewis, Mrs. Mowatt, 
Mrs. M'Donald, Lucy Hooper, Mrs. Mayo, Miss Jacobs, Mrs. Case, Mrs. Bolton, 
Miss Woodman, Mrs. Nichols, Mrs. Wakefield, Miss E. Lee, Miss Susan Pindar, 
Caroline May, Mrs. Neal, Mrs. Sproat, Mrs. Winslow, Miss Campbell, Miss 
Bayard, Mrs. Lascom, Edith May, AUoe and Phoebe Carey, Miss Dawson, Mrs. 
Lowell, and Miss Phillips, 



Chap. III.] AMERICAN LITERATURE. 525 

invariably superior. He has preserved the elevation which he so early 
acquired. He has been loyal to the Muses. At their shrine his minis- 
try seems ever free and sacred, wholly apart from the ordinary 
associations of life. With a pure heart and a lofty purpose has he 
hymned the glory of Nature and the praise of Freedom. To this we 
cannot but, in a great degree, ascribe the serene beauty of his verse. 
The mists of worldly motives dim the clearest vision, and the sweetest 
voice falters amid the strife of passion. As the patriarch went forth 
alone to muse at eventide, the reveries of genius have been to Bryant 
holy and private seasons. They are as unstamed by the passing clouds 
of this troubled existence as the skies of his own ' Prairies ' by village 
smoke. 

Thus it should be, indeed, with all poets ; but we deem it singu- 
larly happy when it is so with our own. The tendency of all action 
and feeling with us is so much the reverse of poetical, that only the high, 
sustained, and consistent development of the imagination would com- 
mand attention or exert influence. The poet, in this republic, does not 
address ignorance. In truth, the great obstacle with which he has to 
deal, so to speak, is intelligence. It is not the love of gain and physi- 
cal comfort alone that deadens the finer perceptions of our people. 
Among the highly educated there is less real enjoyment of poetry than 
is discovered by those to whom reading is almost a solitary luxury. 
No conformity to fashion or affectation of taste influences the latter. 
They seek the world of imagination and sentiment, with the greater 
delight from the limited satisfaction realized in their actual lot. To 
them Poetry is a great teacher of self-respect. It unfolds to them emo- 
tions familiar to their own bosoms. It celebrates scenes of beauty 
amid which they also are free to wander. It vindicates capacities and 
a destiny of which they partake. Intimations like these are seldom 
found in their experience, and for this reason : cherished and hal- 
lowed associations endear an art which consoles while it brings inno- 
cent pleasure to their hearts. It is, therefore, in what is termed society, 
that the greatest barriers to poetic sympathy^xist, and it is precisely 
here that it is most desirable the bard should be heard. But the idea 
of culture with this class lies almost exclusively in knowledge. They 
aim at understanding every question, are pertinacious on the score of 
opinion,, and would blush to be thought unacquainted with a hundred 
subjects with which they have not a particle of sympathy. The wis- 
dom of loving, even without comprehending; the revelations obtained 
only through feeling; the veneration that awes curiosity by exalted 
sentiment, — all this is to them unknown. Life never seems miracu- 
lous to their minds ; Nature wears a monotonous aspect, and routine 
gradually congeals their sensibilities. To invade this vegetative exist- 
ence is the poet's vocation. Hazlitt says all that is worth remembering 
in life is the poetry of it. If so, habits wholly prosaic are as alien to 
wisdom as to enjoyment; and the elevated manner in which Bryant 
has uniformly presented the claims of poetry, the tranquil eloquence 
with which his chaste and serious muse appeals to the heart, deserves 



526 A SKETCH OF [Chap. III. 

the most grateful recognition. There is something accordant with the 
genius of our country in the mingled clearness and depth of his poetry. 
The glow of unbridled passion seems peculiarly to belong to southern 
lands, where despotism blights personal effort, and makes the ardent 
pursuit of pleasure almost a necessity. The ancient communities of 
northern latitudes have rich literatures from whence to draw materials 
for their verse. But here, where Nature is so magnificent, and civil 
institutions so fresh, where the experiment of republicanism is going 
on, and each individual must think, if he do not work. Poetry, to 
illustrate the age and reach its sympathies, should be thoughtful and 
vigorous. It should minister to no weak sentiment, but foster high, 
manly, and serious views. It should identify itself with the domestic 
affections, and tend to solemnize rather than merely adorn, existence. 
Such are the natural echoes of American life, and they characterize the 
poetry of Bryant. 

Bryant's love of Nature gives the prevailing spirit to his poetry. 
The feeling with him seems quite instinctive. It is not sustained by a 
metaphysical theory, as in the case of Wordsworth, while it is imbued 
with more depth of pathos than is often discernible in Thomson. The 
feeling with which he looks upon the wonders of Creation is remarkably 
appropriate to the scenery of the New World. His poems convey, to 
an extraordinary degree, the actual impression which is awakened by 
our lakes, mountains, and forests. There is in the landscape of every 
country something characteristic and peculiar. The individual objects 
may be the same, but their combination is widely different. The 
lucent atmosphere of Switzerland, the grouping of her mountains, the 
effect of glacier and waterfall, of peaks clad in eternal snow, impend- 
ing over valleys whose emerald herbage and peaceful flocks realize our 
sweetest dreams of primeval life — all strike the eye and affect the mind 
in a manner somewhat different from similar scenes in other lands. 
The long, pencilled clouds of an Italian sunset, glowing above plains 
covered with brightly-tinted vegetation, seem altogether more placid 
and luxuriant than the gorgeous masses of golden vapor towering in 
our western sky at the close of an autumnal day. These and innumer- 
able other minute features are not only perceived, but intimately felt, 
by the genuine poet. We esteem it one of Bryant's great merits that 
he has not only faithfully pictured the beauties, but caught the very 
spirit, of our scenery. His best poems have an anthem-like cadence, 
which accords with the vast scenes they celebrate. He approaches the 
mighty forests, whose shadowy haunts only the footstep of the Indian 
has penetrated, deeply conscious of its virgin grandeur. His harp is 
strung in harmony with the wild moan of the ancient boughs. Every 
moss-covered trunk breathes to him of the mysteries of Time, and each 
wild flower which lifts its pale buds above the brown and withered 
leaves, whispers some thought of gentleness. We feel, when musing 
with him amid the solitary woods, as if blessed with a companion 
peculiarly fitted to interpret their teachings ; and while intent, in our 
retirement, upon his page, we are sensible, as it were, of the presence 



Chap. III.] A3IERICA]Sr LITERATURE. 527 

of those sylvan monarchs that crown the hill-tops and grace the valleys 
of our native land. No English park formalized by the hand of Art, no 
legendary spot like the pine grove of Ravenna, surrounds us. It is not 
the gloomy German forest, with its phantoms and banditti, but one of 
those primal, dense woodlands of America, where the oak spreads its 
enormous branches, and the frost-kindled leaves of the maple glow 
like flame in the sunshine; where the tap of the woodpecker and the 
whirring of the partridge alone break the silence that broods, like the 
spirit of prayer, amid the interminable aisles of the verdant sanctuary. 
Any reader of Bryant, on the other side of the ocean, gifted with a 
small degree of sensibility and imagination, may derive from his poems 
the very awe and delight with which the first view of one of our majes- 
tic forests would strike his mind. 

The kind of interest with which Bryant regards Nature is common to 
the majority of minds in which a love of beauty is blended with rever- 
ence. This in some measure accounts for his popularity. Many 
readers, even of poetical taste, are repelled by the very vehemence and 
intensity of Byron. They cannot abandon themselves so utterly to the 
influences of the outward world as to feel the waves bound beneath 
them " like a steed that knows his rider; " nor will their enthusiasm so 
far annihilate consciousness as to make them " a portion of the tem- 
pest." Another order of imaginative spirits do not greatly affect the 
author of the Excursion, from the frequent baldness of his conceptions; 
and not a few are unable to see the Universe through the spectacles of 
his philosophy. To such individuals, the tranquil delight with which 
the American poet expatiates upon the beauties of Creation is perfectly 
genial. There is no mystical lore in the tributes of his muse. All is 
clear, e§irnest, and thoughtful. Indeed, the same diflference that exists 
between true-hearted, natural affection and the metaphysical love of 
the Platonists may be traced between the manly and sincere lays 
of Bryant and the vague and artificial eff"usions of transcendental 
bards. The former realize the definition of a poet which describes him 
as superior to the multitude only in degree, not in kind. He is the 
priest of a universal religion, and clothes in appropriate and harmoni- 
ous language sentiments warmly felt and cherished. He requires no 
interpreter. There is nothing eccentric in his vision. Like all human 
beings, the burden of daily toil sometimes weighs heavily on his soul ; 
the noisy activity of common life becomes hopeless ; scenes of inhu- 
manity, error, and suffering grow oppressive, or more personal causes 
of despondency make " the grasshopper a burden." Then he turns to 
the quietude and beauty of Nature for refreshment. There he loves 
to read the fresh tokens of creative beneficence. The scented air of the 
meadows cools his fevered brow. The umbrageous foilage sways 
benignly around him. Vast prospects expand his thoughts beyond the 
narrow circle of worldly anxieties. The limpid stream, upon whose 
tanks he wandered in childhood, reflects each fleecy cloud and soothes 
his heart as the emblem of eternal peace. Thus faith is revived; the 
60ul acquires renewed vitality, and the spirit of love is kindled again at 



528 A SKETCH OF [Chap. III. 

the filtar of God. Such views of Nature are perfectly accordant with 
the better impulses of the heart. There is nothing in them strained, 
unintelligible, or morbid. Thev are more or less familiar to all, and 
are as healthful overflowings of our nature as the prayer of repentance 
or the song of thanksgiving. They distinguish the poetry of Bryant, 
and form one of its dominant charms. 

Nothing quickens the perceptions like genuine love. From the 
humblest professional attachment to the most chivalric devotion, what 
keenness of observation is born under the influence of that feeling 
which drives away the obscuring clouds of selfishness, as the sun con- 
sumes the vapor of the morning ! I never knew what varied associations 
could environ a shell-fish until I heard an old oyster-merchant dis- 
course of its qualities; and a landsman can have no conception of the 
fondness a ship may inspire before he listens, on a moonlight night, 
amid the lonely sea, to the details of her build and workings, unfolded 
by a complacent tar. Mere instinct or habit will thus make the rude 
and illiterate see with better eyes than their fellows. When a human 
object commands such interest, how quickly does aflfection detect every 
change of mood and incipient want — reading the countenance as if it 
were the very chart of destiny ! And it is so with the lover of Nature. 
By virtue of his love comes the vision, if not "the faculty divine." 
Objects and similitudes seen heedlessly by others, or passed unnoticed, 
are stamped upon his memory. Bryant is a graphic poet, in the best 
sense of the word. He has little of the excessive detail of Street, or 
the homely exactitude of Crabbe. His touches, like his themes, are 
usually on a grander scale, yet the minute is by no means neglected. 
It is his peculiar merit to deal with it wisely. Enough is suggested to 
convey a strong impression, and often by the introduction of a single 
circumstance, the mind is instantly enabled to complete the picture. It 
is difficult to select examples of'his power in this regard. The opening 
scene from A Winter Piece is as picturesque as it is true to fact. 

Bryant is eminently a contemplative poet. His thoughts are not less 
impressive than his imagery. Sentiment, except that which springs 
from benevolence and veneration, seldom lends a glow to his pages. 
Indeed, there is a remarkable absence of those spontaneous bursts of 
tenderness and passion which constitute the very essence of a large 
portion of modern verse. He has none of the spirit of Campbell, or 
the narrative sprightliness of Scott. The few humorous attempts he 
has published are unworthy of his genius. Love is merely recognized 
in his poems; it rarely forms the staple of any composition. His 
strength obviously consists in description and philosophy. It is one 
advantage of this species of poetry that it survives youth, and is, by 
nature, progressive. Bryant's recent poems are fully equal, if not 
superior, to any he has written. With his inimitable pictures there is 
ever blended high speculation, or a reflective strain of moral command. 
Some elevating inference or cheering truth is elicited from every scene 
consecrated by his muse. A noble simplicity of language, combined 
with these traits, often leads to the most genuine sublimity of expre«- 



Chap. III.] AMERICAN LITERATURE, 629 

sion. Some of his lines are unsurpassed in this respect. They so 
quietly unfold a great thought or magnificent image, that we are often 
taken by surprise. Wkat a striking sense of mortality is afforded by 

the idea, — 

" The oak 
Shall send his roots abroad and pierce thy mould" ! 

How grand the figure which represents the evening air, as 

*' God's blessing breathed upon the fainting earth " ! 

In the same poem he compares 

"The gentle souls that passed away '* 

to the twilight breezes sweeping over a churchyard, — 

" Sent forth from heaven among the sons of men, 
And gone into the boundless heaven again." 

And what can be more suggestive of the power of the winds than the 
figure by which they are said to 

" Scoop the ocean to its briny springs " ? 

He would make us feel the hoary age of the mossy and gigantic forest- 
trees, and not only alludes to their annual decay and renewal, but 

significantly adds, — 

" The century-living crow. 
Whose birth was in their tops, grew old and died.'* 

To those who have never seen a prairie, how vividly does one spread 
before the imagination, in the very opening of the poem devoted to 
those "verdant wastes " ! 

The progress of Science is admirably hinted in a line of The Ages^ 
when man is said to 

" Unwind the eternal dances of the sky." 

Instances like these might be multiplied at pleasure, to illustrate the 
efiicacy of simple diction, and to prove that the elements of real poetry 
consist in truly grand ideas, uttered without affectation, and in a rever- 
ent and earnest spirit. 

A beautiful calm, like that which rests on the noble works of the 
sculptor, breathes from the harp of Bryant. He traces a natural 
phenomenon, or writes, in melodious numbers, the history of some 
familiar scene, and then, with almost prophetic emphasis, utters to the 
charmed ear a high lesson or sublime truth. In that pensive hymn in 
which he contrasts Man's transitory being with Nature's perennial life, 
solemn and affecting as are the images, they but serve to deepen the 
simple monition at the close. 

In The Fountain, after a descriptive sketch that brings its limpid flow 
and flowery banks almost palpably before us, how exquisite is the 
chronicle that follows ! Guided by the poet, we behold that gushing 
stream, ages past, in the solitude of the old woods, when canopied by 
the hickory and plane, the humming-bird playing amid its spray, and 
visited only by the wolf, who comes to "lap its waters," the deer who 
45 



530 A SKETCH OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. [Chap. III. 

leaves her " delicate footprint" on its marge, and the " slow-paced bear 
that stopped and drank, and leaped across." Then the savage war-cry 
drowns its murmur, and the wounded foeman creeps slowly to its brink 
to *' slake his death-thirst." Ere long a hunter's lodge is built, " v/ith 
poles and boughs, beside the crj^stal well," and at length the lonely 
place is surrounded with the tokens of civilization. 
Thus the minstrel, even 

" From the gushing of a simple fount, 
Has reasoned to the mighty universe." 

The very rhj'thm of the stanzas To a Waterfowl, gives the impres- 
sion of its flight. Like the bird's sweeping wing, they float with a calm 
and majestic cadence to the ear. We see that solitary wanderer of the 
*' cold thin atmosphere; " we watch, almost with awe, its serene course, 
until " the abyss of heaven has swallowed up its form," and then grate- 
fully echo the bard's consoling inference. 

But it is unnecessary to cite from pages so familiar; or we might 
allude to the grand description of Freedom, and the beautiful Hym7i 
to Death as among the noblest specimens of modern verse. The 
great principle of Bryant's faith is that 

*' Eternal Love doth keep 
In his complacent arms the earth, the air, the deep." 

To set forth, in strains the most attractive and lofty, this glorious 
sentiment, is the constant aim of his poetry. Gifted must be the man 
who is loyal to so high a vocation. From the din of outward activity, 
the vain turmoil of mechanical life, it is delightful and ennobling to 
turn to a true poet, — one who scatters flowers along our path, and lifts 
our gaze to the stars, — breaking, by a word, the spell of blind custom, 
so that we recognize once more the original glory of the universe, and 
bear again the latent music of our own souls. This high service has 
Bryant fulfilled. It will identify his memory with the loveliest scenes 
of his native land, and endear it to her children forever.* 

• Thoughts on the Poets. 



Chap. III.] NOTE TO AMERICAN LITERATURE, 



531 



NOTE TO SKETCH OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 



To the works of American authors above enu- 
merated, the fifteen years which have since elapsed 
have added characteristic and valuable materials. 
Bancroft's History of the United State,* has now 
reached its ninth volume, which brings the record 
far into the epoch of the Revolution. Emerson has 
added English Tt-aits, and The Conduct of Life, to 
his series of essays; Longfellow, Hiawatha, Miles 
Standish, The Wayside Inn, Flower de Luce, and a 
translation of Dante's Ditnna Commedia to his po- 
etical writings. Holmes has written a new volume 
of essays and a novel. Donald G. Mitchell has 
given to the public two pleasant volumes of rural 
essays — 3Iy Farm at Edgewood, and Wet Days at 
Fhl{/ewood, a book of Traveller's Tales, and a novel 
of New England life— Dr. Johns. Bayard Taylor 
has published two American stories, Hannah Thurs- 
ton, .and the Story of Kenneth, and two poems. The 
I'oeVs Story, and The Picture of St. John. Sabine 
and Lossing have continued their popular historical 
labors ; Bushnell added to his philosophical exposi- 
tion of religious and social subjects; Higginson 
and Parkman in prose, and Bryant, Whittier, and 
Halleck in poetry, contributed new writings to the 
nation's stock ; while to the previous excellent trans- 
lations of the masterpieces of German literature by 
Charles T. Brooks, are to be added the Titatt. and 
Hesperus of Richter, the humorous Jobsiad, and 
Goethe's Faust. 

Henry James has published a religious and meta- 
physical treatise called Substance and Shadow; 
George U. Calvert, a new volume of foreign travel 
and sojourn, entitled First I'ears in Europe, and an 
interesting essay. The Gentleman. William W. 
Story has embodied in a work with the title lioba 
di lioma, the results of long and patient observa- 
tion of the habits, customs, and normal aspects of 
the Eternal City ; and William D. Howell gives us a 
charming record of Venetian Life. James Jackson 
Jarves, in two substantial volmnes, Art Studies, 
and the Art Idea, has imparted much general his- 
torical information and ajsthetic philosophy in 
regard to the fine arts. Saxe, Aldrich, Street, Stod- 
dard, Mrs. Howe, Mrs. Aken, Alice Carey, and 
other poetical writers have added fresh volumes to 
tlie library of American verse ; while in the depart- 
ments of educational literature, political disquisition, 
theology, science, popular and juvenile books, 
adapted to wants of a vast and wide-spread popula- 
tion, the supply of new and desirable works has 
been constant, and, for the most part, creditable to 
the average taste, love of knowledge, and prevalent 
Intelligence and rectitude. 

Since the preceding Sketch was written, the obitu- 
ary record of our authors has withdrawn some of the 
earliest and most endeared. Washington Irving 
died on the 28th of November, 1859, in the ripeness 
of his age and fame, having, but a few months pre- 
vious, finished the Life of Washirigton — his laav 
and appropriate labor of love in the field of nativt 



literature. To the complete edition of his writings, 
revised by his own hand in the pleasant autumn of 
his life, and received by his countrymen with re- 
newed evidences of sympathy and respect, have been 
added, since his decease, two volumes of uncollected 
papers consisting of Spanish legends, early contri- 
butions to the newspaper press, and a few personal 
memoirs and reminiscences. William Hickling 
Prescott closed his brief but briiliant literary career 
on the 28th of January, 1859. His last historical 
work, I'hilip II., was left unfinished. James Paul- 
ding did not long survive the old friend and literary 
comrade with whom he wrote Salmagundi; and 
the best of this pioneer author's writings will soou 
be published in a revised and uniform series. 

Theodore Parker died in Florence, Italy, May 
10, 1860. His latest work is entitled Theodore Par- 
ker's Experience as a Minister, luith some Account 
of his Early Life and Education for the Ministry — 
an autobiographical narrative which throws much 
light on the early influences and original endow- 
ments whose combination led eventually to his 
peculiar opinions and original course as a reformer 
and theologian. For a complete understanding of 
his career and character, however, which in many- 
respects were exceptional, a perusal of his life and 
correspondence is requisite.* 

Edward Everett, after the issue of three substantial 
volumes of orations, which, in view of both topics 
and treatment, may be justly regarded as of national 
value and significance, at the age of sixty traversed 
the United States to deliver his oration on the 
character of Washington, for the twofold patriotic 
purpose of allaying the sectional animosity which 
afterwards culminated in civil war, and to raise the 
funds requisite for the purchase of Mount Vernon — 
the home and tomb of Washington. During the 
civil conflict the eloquent voice and pen of Everett 
were constantly pleading and protesting for the 
Union, and, crowned with this final work of honor 
and patriotism, he died on the 15th of January, 1865. 

Nathaniel Hawthorne, since the previous mention 
of his >vTitings, passed a year in Italy, and gave to 
the public the graceful fiuit of that sojourn in one 
of his most beautiful and characteristic romances — 
the Marble Faun. After relinquishing the consul- 
ship at Liverpool, and returning to Concord, Massa- 
chusetts, the results of his obser\'ation and reflection 
dm'ing several years' residence in England appeared 
in a delightful volume of local sketches entitled 
Our Old Home — in style, insight, descriptive skill 
and quiet humor, worthy of his artistic pen and 
genial yet subtle observation. Hawthorne died at 
Plymouth, New Hampshire, May 19, 18G4, while ou 
a journey for his health, which had gradually failed. 
He left a story of English life unfinished, and the 
passages from his note-books which have appeared 



* The Life and Correspondence of Theodore 
Parker, by John Weiss. New York, 1864. 



532 



NOTE TO A3IE1UCAN LITERATURE. [Chap. III. 



in the Atlantic Monthly since his death, indicate the 
thoughtfulness with which he contemplated even 
the most familiar phenomena of life and nature, 
and the elaborate study whereby he prepared him- 
*elf to interpret and illustrate them. The wayward 
yet studious career of Percival terminated in Illinois, 
Boon after hia geological survey of Wisconsin, May 
2, 1856. Many of his poems have obtained a merited 
popularity; and the eccentricities growing out of his 
sensitive organization, independent spirit, and scien- 
tific zeal, are well set forth in the recently published 
Life and Letters of the gifted but perverse poet.* 

To this list of the eminent departed must be added 
the names of many of our clergy who enjoyed and 
exerted a literary as well as religious influence — 
such as Dr. Edward Hitchcock, Dr. Robinson, Fran- 
cis Wayland, George Bush, Clement C. Moore, 
Dr. Alexander, Pise, C. W. Upham, George W. 
Bethune, Dr. Baird, Starr King, John Pierpont, and 
others, as well as several useful and respected fe- 
male authors : — among them, Mrs. Caroline Kirk- 
land, Mrs. Sigounjey, Sirs. Famham, Hannah F. 
Gould, Alice B. Haven, Mrs. Emma C. Embury, 
Mrs. Farrar, Miss licslie, and Miss Maria Cum- 
mins; with a number of miscellaneous writers, 
whose labors illustrated special subjects, as School- 
craft, in aboriginal history and ethnology. Good- 
rich in popular education, and Walsh and Buckirg- 
hani in editorial essays ; Theodore Sedgwick, Hor- 
ace Mann, Hildreth, Benjamin, Choate, Kettell, 
Dr. Francis, Josiah Quincy, and G. L. Duyckink. 

During the interval which has elapsed, and not- 
withstanding a civil conflict of four years, unparal- 
leled in history for patriotic self-devotion and the 
lavish sacrifice of life and treasure to reassert and 
vindicate forever the integrity of the nation, sev- 
eral new and important additions have been made 
to our catalogue of able and honored authors and 
of standard works in native literature. John Loth- 
rop Motley has gained a European reputation by 
his History of the Dutch Republic ami of the Nether- 
lands— -^'orks of elaborate research and artistic 
finish, written with an earnest sympathy in tlie 
struggles of those who laid the foundations of civil 
and religious freedom, and with a force and grace 
of style both appropriate and attractive. A valuable 
addition to this department also is the History of 
Aeu» England, by John Gorham Palfiey, wherein 
is evident much original research and a more com- 
prehensive and vivid treatment than had before 
been given to the subject. In the sphere of philol- 
ogy and economical science, George P. Marsh has 
written with erudition and efficiency : his History 
and Origin of the English Language, his Lec- 
tures on the English Language, and his treatise 
entitled 3fan and Nature have been recognized as 
singularly able and suggestive works on both sides 
of the ocean. In popular biography James Parton 
has won deserved distinction by the thoroughness 
of his investigation, and the dramatic form of his 
delineation ; his lives of Burr, Jac/cson, and Frank- 
lin are read and relished by thousands. William 
R. Alger's History of the Doctrine of a Future 
Life, is the most complete, curious, and interesting 
work of its kind which has appeared in our country. 



♦ The Life and Letters of James Gates Percival, hy 
Julius H. H'ard. Boeton. Tickuor & Fields, 1866. 



Robert S. Lowell has published a local romance of 
freshness and picturesque attraction, and eeveral 
expressive poems ; Edward S. Rand, Jr., a pleasant 
and useful series of horticultural works ; John Mil- 
ton Mackie, two or three sprightly and graceful 
books of travel ; and the lamented Dr. Kane, a most 
successful narrative of his arctic adventures. One 
of the most individual of the American authors who 
have become known to fame since the preceding 
record was written, is Henry D. Thoreau, inti- 
mately known and highly esteemed by a few near 
neighbors and friends during his life, including 
Emerson and Hawthorne. It is only since his 
death, which occurred May 7, 1862, that his pecu- 
liar traits have been generally recognized through 
his writings. He aspired to a life of frugal inde- 
pendence and moral isolation, and carried out the 
desire with singular heroism and patience. Hia 
experience aa a hermit on the Concord River, his 
observant excursions to the woods of Maine, the 
sands of Cape Cod, and other native scenes, rarely 
explored by such curious and loving eyes, have a 
remarkable freshness of tone and fulness of detail ; 
while on themes of a social and political nature liis 
comments are those of a bold and ardent reformer. 
Few books possess a more genuine American scope 
and flavor than Thoreau's. '• 

Gail Hamilton has become a household word in 
New England as the nom de plume of a trenchant 
and graphic female essayist; and Trowbridge has 
gained popularity as an American story-teller. J. 
G. Holland has proved one of the most successful 
of American authors, if pecuniary results and popu- 
larity may be regarded as the test. Long engaged ia 
the editorial charge of a New England daily news- 
paper, and brought into intimate contact with the 
people, their tastes and wants seem to have been 
remarkably appreciated by this prolific literary 
purveyor thereto. He has written novels, poems, 
lectin-es, and essays, founded on or directed to the 
wants and tendencies of life and nature in New 
England, and reflecting, with great authenticity, the 
local peculiarities, natural phases, and characteristic 
qualities of the region and the people. 

Although the war for the Union elicited many 
memorable utterances in the form of logical dis- 
cussion, eloquent appeal and invective, graphic 
narration, and lyric pathos or power, perhaps it 
revealed no more interesting literary phenomena 
than the advent of a young writer of romance pre- 
viously quite unappreciated. A vivid sketch which 
Theodore Winthrop \\Tote of the march of the Sev- 
enth Regiment from New York to Baltimore on the 
outbreak of the rebellion, first awakened public 
attention to his spirit and skill as a raconteur ; and 
when, a few months later, he gallantly laid down 
his young life for his country, the writings which 
had vainly sought a publisher while he lived were 
hailed by a host of sympathetic readers as the liter- 
ary legacy of a youthful martyr. This natural re- 
action from indift'erence to eulogy was not, however, 
a mere tribute to valor and fealty. The chivalrous 
nature and artistic sympathies of Major Winthrop, 
his love of adventure, his narrative skill, and a cer- 
tain dramatic fire, are embodied and embalmed in 
these volumes of travel and romance in a manner 
full of high literary promise and genuine personal 
interest. 



IISTDEX 



TO ENGLISH LITERATURE 



Abelard, 28. 

Ailam, Davie, 53. 

Addison, Joseph, 289-295. 

Adrian, Abbot, 26. 

A^ilrcd of Kievaux, 30. 

Akeuside, Mark, 354. 

Albert, Archbishop of 
York, 27. 

Alcuin, 20, 27. 

Aldhehn, 20. 

Alfred, kiug-, 27; his trans- 
laiion of Bede, 27. 

Alfred, or Alured of Bev- 
erley, 30. 

Alfric, 28 ; another, 28; an- 
other, 28. 

Amory, Thomas, 348. 

Aiioreii Riwle, the, 33. 

Ancrura, Earl of, 87. 

Angles, 10. 

Anglo-Norman literature, 
28, 55. 

Ang^lo-Saxon, date of its 
change into English, 25; 
language, 10, 23, 25; lit- 
erature in Latin, 2(>; po- 
etry,, the vernacular, 20 ; 
prose, the vernacular, 27. 

Anglo-Saxons, 14; rise of 
literature among, 15, 20. 

Anselra, 2S-30. 

Austey, Christopher, 373. 

Aquinas, Thomas, 31. 

Arbuthnot, Dr. John, 2S1. 

Armstrong, John, 359, 

Arnold, Dr. Thomas, 461. 

Arthur, legends of kiug, 
23, 31. 

Ascluim, Eo^er, 64. 

Ashmole, Elias, 204. 

Asser, Bishop, 27. 

Athelstane, 28. 

Atterbury, Bishop, 296. 

Aubrey, .lohn, 2(>4. 

Austen, Miss, 451. 



Bacon, Francis, 9^-103 ; Ro- 
ger, 29. 
Baillie, Joanna, 374. 
Baldwyne, Richard, 84. 
Bale, Bishop, 70, 112, 114. 
Ballads, 07, 08, 375. 
Banim, John, 450. 
Barbauld, Mrs., 373. 
Barbour, 3(5, 55, 01. 
Barclay, Robert, 185. 
Barklay, Alexander, 06. 
Barulield, Richard, SO. 
Barrow, Isaac, 254. 
Barton, Bernard, 432. 
Battle of Finnesburg, 26 j of 

Otterburne, 08. 
Baxter, Richard, 184. 
Bayly, Thomas Haynes, 

432. 
Beattie, James, 350. 
Beaumont, 157; Sir John, 

86. 
Bee, Abbey of, 28, 29. 
Becket, Thomas, 30, 
Beckford, William, 453. 
Bede, IS, 20, 27. 
Bchn, Mrs. Aphra, 245. 
Bell, Currer. See P.ronte. 
Bellenden, .John, 70, 
Bentham, Jeremy, 473. 
Bentley, Richard, 302. 
Beowulf, Lay of, 10. 
Berengarius of Tours, 29. 
Berkeley, Bishop, 299. 
Bernard, St., 28, 31. 
Berners, Lord, 62. 
Bible, English translation 

of, 57. 
Birch, Dr. Thomas, 347. 
Blacklock, Thomas, 373. 
Blackmore, Sir Richard, 

288, 
Elackstone, Sir William, 

342. 
Blackwood's Magazine, 469. 
Bliiir, Robert, 350. 



45^ 



Blessino^on, Lady, 451, 

Blind Harry, 55, 61, 69. 

Blondel, 31. 

Bloomfield, Robert, 433. 

Boleyn, George, 70. 

Boliugbroke, Viscount, 298. 

Boniface, 27. 

Boston, Thomas, 264. 

Boswell, James, 337. 

Bowles, Rev. William Lisle, 
432. 

Boyle and Bentley Contro- 
versy, 302 ; Robert, 261. 

Breton, Nicholas, 85. 

Bronte, Charlotte, 458. 

Brooke, Arthur, 85 ; Henry, 
374 j Lord, Fulk Greville, 
85. 

Broome, 104; William, 267. 

Brown, Dr. Thomas, 347: 
Tom, 302. 

Browne, Isaac Hawkins, 
373 ; Sir Thomas, 178 : 
William, 171. 

Browning, Mrs,, 4.35. 

Bruce, James, 349 ; Michael, 
373. 

Brunton, Mrs, Mary, 458. 

Brut d'Angleterre, 31, 32. 

Bryan, Sir Francis, 70. 

Bryant, Jacob, 348. 

Buchanan, George, 87, 107, 
170. 

Buckiufjham, Duke of, 247. 

Budgeli, Eustace, 302. 

Bull, George, 203, 

Bunyan, Jolm, 221-225. 

Burke, Edmund, .3-39, 

Burnet, Gilbert, 202 ; James. 
See Mouboddo. Thomas, 
201. 

Burney, Frances, 440. 

Burns, Robert, 300. 

Burton, Robert, 104. 

Butler, Bishop, 343; Sam- 
uel, 207, 212. 

Byrom, John, 372. 

Byron, Lord, 390-404. 

(533) 



634 



INDEX TO ENGLISH LITERATURE. 



C. 

Csedmon, monk of Whitby, 
26. 

Calamy, Edmund, 264. 

Cambrensis, Giraldus, 30. 

Camden, William, 107. 

Campbell, Dr. George, 345; 
Thomas, 416. 

Canute, 28. 

Caradoc of Lancarvan, 30. 

Carew, Thomas. 86, 170. 

Carleton, William, 450. 

Carte, Thomas, 347. 

Carter, Elizabeth, 374. 

Gary, Henry, 433. 

Cavendish, George, 70. 

Caxton, 55, 59. 

Cecil, William, Lord Bur- 
leigh, 107. 

Celtic dialect, 13; writers, 
27. 

Celts, 11, 13, 14. 

Chalmers, Thomas, 465. 

Chamberlayne, William, 176. 

Chamier, Captain, 456. 

Chapman, George, 85, 164. 

Charleton, Dr. Walter, 231. 

Chatterton, Thomas, 362. 

Chaucer, Geoffrey, 37-53. 

Cheke, Sir John, 64. 

Chesterfield, Earl of, 348. 

Chettle, Henry, 166. 

Chevy Chase, 68. 

Chillingworth, Wm., 178. 

Christianity, conversion of 
Anglo-Saxons to, 15; its 
influence on Anglo-Saxon 
literature, 26. 

Chronicle, the Saxon, 28. 

Chronicles, Latin, 29 J Met- 
rical, 31. 

Churchill, Charles, 372. • 

Churchyard, Thomas, 84,85. 

Clarendon, Earl of. 226. 

Clarke, Dr. Samuel, 346. 

Cleveland, John, 170. 

Cobbett, William, 474. 

Coleridge, Samuel Taylor, 
425; Hartley, 433; Sara, 
433. 

Collins, William, 353. 

Collier, Jeremy, 241. 

Colmau, George, the elder, 
'370 ; George, the younger, 
370. 

Columbanus, St., 27. 

Common Prayer, Book of, 
62. 

Congreve, William, 238. 

Constable, Henry, 85. 

Cooke, George, 166. 

Corbet, Richard, 86, 170. 

Cotton, Charles, 176, 228; 

Nathaniel, 372. 
Coverdale, Miles, 62. 
Cowley, Abraham, 174. 
Cowper, William, 357. 
Coxe, llev. William, 475. 
Crabbe, George, 364. 
Crashaw, IJichard, 168. 
Croker, Croftou, 450 : John 

Wilson, 474, 
Croly, Rev, George, 434. 
Crowue, John, 244. 



Cudworth, Ralph, 263. 

Cumberland, Richard (bish- 
op), 263 ; Richard (dram- 
atist), 370. 

Curfew, the, 19. 

Cuthbert, 26. 

Cymry, 11-13. 

Cynewulf, 26. 



Dalrymple, Sir David. See 

Hailes. 
Daniel, Samuel, 80, 81, 107. 
Danish invasion, 18. 
Darwin, Erasmus, .360. 
Davenant, Sir Wm., 172. 
Davies, Sir John, 81. 
Davis, 90. 

Davison, Francis, 85. 
Day, John, 166. 
Deductive Method, 98-100. 
Defoe, Daniel, 306-308. 
Dekker, Thomas, 164. 
Denham, Sir John, 173. 
De Lolme, John Louis, .347. 
De Quincey, Thomas, 472. 
Derham, William, 259. 
Doddridge, Dr. Philip, 345. 
Dodsley, Robert, 374. 
Domesday Book, 19. 
Donne, John, 82. 
Dorset, Earl of, 247. 
Douglas, Gawin or Gavin, 

60, 69. 
Drama, English, its origin, 

108. 
Drayton, Jlichael, 80. 
Drummoud, William, 87, 

170. 
Dryden, John, 212-220. 
Dugdale, Sir William, 204. 
Dunbar, William, 60, 09. 
Dun Stan, 27. 
D'Uriey, Tom, 302. 
Dyer, John, 372. 



E. 

Eadmer, 30. 

Earle, John, 186. 

Eanbald, 27. 

Echard, Lawrence, 304. 

Edgewortli, Maria, 448. 

Edinburgh Review, 469. 

J]dward8, Richard, 85, 115. 

Egbert, Archbishop, 27. 

Elizabethan Age, 71, 88. 

Elliott, Ebenezer, 434. 

Ellwood, Thomas, 264. 

Ely, Monk of, 32. 

Elyot, Sir Thomas, 70. 

English Literature, divis- 
ions of, 25; origin of the 
name, 16 ; history of lan- 
guage, 23; Prose Litera- 
ture, beginning of, 54. 

Erigena. See Scotus. 

Erskine, Ebenezer, 346; 
Ralph. 340. 

Ethelred, 28. 

Etherege, Sir George, 233. 

Evelyn, John, 22«. 



Fabliaux, 31, 33, 49, 51. 

Fabyan, 63. 

Fairfax, Edward, 84, 86. 

Falconer, William, 359. 

Fanshawe, Sir Richard, 176, 

Farmer, Dr, Richard, 349. 

Farquhar, George, 237. 

Feltham, Owen, 186. 

Fenton, Elijah, 267. 

Ferguson, Dr. Adam, 346. 

F'orgusson, Robert, 374. 

Ferrers, George, 84. 

Ferrier, Miss, 452. 

Field, Nathaniel, 166. 

Fielding, Henry, 312; Sa- 
rah, 325, 

Filmer, Sir Robert, 206. 

Finnesburg, Battle of (Sax- 
on poem), 26. 

Fislier, Bishop, 70; Edward, 
264. 

Flamsteed, John, 259. 

Flavel, John, 203. 

Fletcher, Sir Andrew, 304 ; 
John, 157; Giles, 83, 80; 
Phineas, 83, 86. 

Florence of Worcester, 30. 

Foote, Samuel, .370. 

Ford, John, 162. 

Fortesciie, Chief Justice, 00. 

Foster, John, 464. 

Fox, George, 184. 

Foxe, John, 62. 

Eraser, James Baillie,458. 

Frere, John, 433. 

Fridegode, 27. 

Froissart, Chronicle of, 32; 
translated into English, 
62. 

Fuller, Thomas, 170. 



G. 

Gale, Theophilus, 263 
Gait, Jolin, 449. 
Garrick, David, 370. 
Garth, Sir Samuel, 285. 
Gascoigue, George, 71. 
Gauden, John, 186. 
Gay, John, 2S3. 
Geoffrev, 29 ; de Vinaa^if, 

31 ; Gaimar, 32 ; of Mou- 

moutli, .30. 
Gesta Romanorum, 49, 50. 
Gibbon, Edward, 329. 
Gifford, William, 468. 
Gilbert, William, 259. 
Gildas, Histories of, 27. 
Gillies, Dr. John, 474. 
Glapthorne, Henry, 166. 
Glasscock. Captain, 456. 
Gleig, George Robert, 457. 
Glover, Richard, 374. 
Godfrey, Prior, 29. 
Godwin. William, 442. 
Goldsmith, Oliver, 321. 
Gower, 36, 50, 55-57. 
Grafton, Richard, 107. 
Grahame, James, 433. 
Grainger, .Tames. 359, 374. 
Grammaticus. See Alfrie 
Granger, James, 318. 



INDEX TO ENGLISH LITERATURE. 



535 



Granville, George. See 

Lansdowne. 
Gray, Thomas, 355. 
Green, 3Iatthew, 851. 
Greene, Robert, 107, 125. 
Greville,Fulk,Lord Brooke, 

SG. 
Grimoald, Nicholas, 70. 
Grosseteste, Robert, 29-31. 
Grote, George, 4(50. 
Guillaume de Lorris, 40. 



ITabington, William, 171. 
ITailes, Lord, 348. 
Hakluvt, Richard, 90. 
Hale, Sir Matthew, 2G4. 
Hales, Alexander, 29; John, 

177. 
Halifax, Earl of, 231 ; Mar- 
quess of, 228. 
Hall, Edward, 63 ; Joseph, 

8:$, 180: Robert, 464. 
Hallam, Henrv, 463. 
Halley, Edmund, 259. 
Halyburton, Thomas, 261-. 
Hamilton, Mrs. Elizabeth, 

458; Sir William, 466. 
Harding, John, 63, 69. 
Harrington, James, 61, 206; 
John (the father), 86 ; 
Sir John (the son), 86. 
Hartley, David, 34(5. 
Harvey, Gabriel, 73; Wil- 
liam, 259. 
Hathaway, Ann, wife of 

Shakspeare, 130. 
Hawes, Stephen, 60. 
Hawkesworth, John, 336. 
Hayley, William, 374. 
Hayward, Sir John, 107. 
Hazlitt, William, 474. 
Heber, Dr. Reginald, 433. 
Hemans, Jlrs., 432. 
Henry VIII., 61 ; Matthew, 
203 ; of Huntingdon, 30, 
31; Dr. Robert, 347. 
Henryson, Robert, 61, 69. 
Herl)crt, George, 168 ; Lord, 

105 ; Rev. William, 432. 
Hereford, translator of the 

Old Testament, 58. 
Herman, Bishop, 29. 
Herrick, Robert, 109, 
Hervey, James, 346 ; Lord, 

347. 
Heylin, Peter, 186. 
Hoywood, John, 112 ; Tho- 
mas, 164. 
Higgins, John, »4. 
Hilarius, 31. 
Hill, Aaron, 374. 
lloadlcv, Benjamin, 345. 
Hobbes*, Thomas, 105. 
Hogg, James, 434. 
Holcroft, Thomas, 458. 
Holinshed, Raphael, 89. 
Home, Henry. See Karnes, 

John, 374. 
Hood, Thomas, 434. 
Hook, Theodore, 452. 
Hooke, Nathaniel, 347. 
Hooker, Richard, 91. 



Hope, Thomas, 453. 

Home, Dr. George, 345. 

Home Tooke, John, 348. 

Horner, Francis, 468. 

Horsley, Dr. Samuel, 345. 

Howard, Mr., 450. 

Howe, John, 2r)3. 

Hrolf the Ganger, 19, 21. 

Hugh of Lincoln, 50. 

Hughes, John, 302. 

Hume, Alexander, 87; Da- 
vid, .320. 

Huunis, William, 85. 

Hunt, James Henry Leigh, 
417. 

Hurd, Dr. Richard, .345. 

Hutcheson, Dr. Francis, 346. 

Hutchinson, Lucy, 200. 

Hyde, Edward. See Clar- 
eudou, 

I. 

Inchbald, Mrs. Elizabeth, 

441. 
Inductive Method, 98, 101, 

102. 
Ingulphus, .30. 
Interludes, the, 112. 
Ireland, William Henry, 

364. 
Iscanus, Josephus, 31. 



J. 

James, G. P. R., 439. 

James I., of Scotland, 60, 
69 ; VI., of Scotland, 87. 

Jean de Meun,40. 

Jeffrey, Francis, 408. 

Jerrold, Douglas, 458. 

Jocelin de Brakelond, .30. 

John Barbour, .36, 55, 61 ; 
de Hautev)lle,31 ; deTre- 
visa, 30. 55 ; of J^'ordun, 
55 : of Salisbury, 29, 31. 

Johnson, Samuel, 333. 

Johnston, Dr. Arthur, 87. 

Johnstone, Charles, 325. 

Jones, Sir William, 348. 

Jonson, Ben, 152. 

.Tortin, Dr. John, 345. 

Julius Cajsar, 12. 

Junius, Letters of, 341. 



Karnes, Lord, .346. 
Keats, John, 415. 
Kennett, Basil, 347. 
King. Dr. Henry, 176. 
Knolles, Richard, 107. 
Knawles, James Sheridan, 

4.34. 
Kyd, Thomas, 125. 



L. 

Laing, Malcora, 318. 
Lanil), Charles, 470. 
Landon, Letitin, 434. 
Laudor, Walter i^avago, 418. 



Lanfrane, 29, 30. 
L,anghorne, Dr. .John. 349. 
Langlande, Robert, 54. 
Langton, Stephen, .30. 
Laugue-d'Oc, the, 21. 
Langue-d'Oil, the, 21. 
Lansdowne, Lord, 288. 
Larduer, Dr. Nathaniel, 345. 
Latimer, 62. 
Latin element in English 

language, 13, 18. 
Law, William, 345. 
Lawrence of Durham, 31. 
Laws, the Anglo-Saxon, 28. 
Layamon, .32. 
Lee, Harriet, 458 ; Nath.au- 

iel, 243 ; Sophia, 458. 
Leighton, Robert, 203. 
Lelaud, John, 70. 
LennoXjCharlotte, 349 ; Dr., 

348. 
Leslie, Charles, 345. 
L'Estrange, Sir Roger, 231. 
Lever, 457. 

Lewis, Matthew Gregory, 
439 ; Sir George Corue- 
wall, 401. 
Levden, John, 433. 
Lillo, George, 24(5. 
Lingard, Dr. John, 475. 
Lister, T. H.,451. 
Literature, Anglo-Norman 
28-32 ; Anglo-Normar 
and Anglo-Saxon, in Lat- 
in, 29 ; earliest Anglo- 
Saxon, 20; Anglo-Saxon, 
in Latin, 20; influence of 
foreign scholars on, 28 ; 
Old English, 33, .34; Semi- 
Saxon, 32, .33. 
Lithgow, William, 107. 
Locke, John, 249-254. 
Lockhart, John Gibson, 458, 

409. 
Lodge, Thomas, 86, 126. 
Logan, John, 373. 
Lollius, 45. 
Lombard, Peter, 28. 
Lovelace, Sir Richard, 109. 
Lover, 457. 
Lowth, Dr. Robert, 345 ; Dr. 

William, 204. 
J Qces de Gast, 32. 
Lydgate, John, 09. 
Lyly, John, 107, 124. 
Lyudsay, Sir David, 69. 
Lyctelton, Lord, 347. 



M. 

?Iv.flrtney, Lord, 349. 
M»v<?aulay, Thomas Babing- 

tou, 46 i ; Mrs. Catherine, 

347. 
Mackenzie, Sir George, 204; 

Henry, 458. 
Mackintosh, Sir James,474. 
Macpherson, James, .348, 

301. 
MacuUoch, J. R., 473. 
Maitland, Sir Richard, 87. 
Mallet, David, 299. 
Malo'ie, Edmond, 349. 
Maicf/, Sll Thoaiiis, 32, 70, 



536 



INDEX TO ENGLISH LITERATURE. 



Maiideville, Bernard, 299; 

Sir John de, 54. 
Miinley, Mrs., 304. 
Maanyng, Robert, 33. 
Mapes or Map, Walter, 31, 

3:>. 
Marlowe, Christopher, 126. 
iMarston, John, 83, 104. 
3Iarryat, Captain, 450. 
Marvell, Andrew, 205. 
Mason, William, 374. 
Massinger, Philip, 161. 
Matthew Paris, .30. 
Maturin, Charles Eobert, 

4.1'.). 
Michael of Kildare, 34 ; 

Scot, 55. 
Mickle, William Julius, 372. 
Middleton, Dr. Couyers, 

347: Thomas, 1G4. 
Mill. James, 473, 474. 
]Millor, Hugh, 407. 
Milton, John, 187-205. 
Minot, Laurence, 30, 54. 
Miracle Plays, 108. 
Mitford, Miss, 453 ; Wil- 
liam, 475. 
Monboddo, Lord, .346. 
Montagu, Ciiarles. See 

Ilaliiax, Earl of. Lady 

Mary, .300. 
Montgomery, Alexander, 

87; James, 432; liobert, 

434. 
Moore, Dr. John, 458 ; Ed- 
ward, 336; Thomas, 404, 

410. 
Moralities, the, 111, 112. 
More, Henry, 203; Hannah, 

372 ; Sir Thomas, 61. 
Morgan, Lady, 450. 
Morier, James, 453. 
Slunday, Anthony, 166. 
Jlurphy, Arthur, 374. 
Mysteries or Miracles, lOS, 

112. 

Nabbes, Thomas, 166. 

Napier, Sir William, 475. 

Nash, Thomas, 107, 125. 

Nonnius, 27. 

Kevile, Henry, 264. 

Newcastle, Duchess of, 176. 

Newton, Sir Isaac, 200. 

Niccols, Richard, 84. 

Nicholas Trivet, 30. 

Nicholson, William, .345. 

Norman Conquest, eiTects 
of, U>-22; family names, 
20; French, 24, 25; influ- 
ence on English language 
previous to the Conquest, 
18. 

North, Christopher. See 
Wilson. 

Norton, Thomas, 114. 



O. 

Ocx-love, Thomas, .38, 69. 

O.io, 27. 

Ui»ie, Mrs. Amelia, 442. 



Orm or Ormin, 33. 

Ormulum, the, .33. 

Ossian, .361. 

Otway, Thomas, 242. 

Overbury, Sir Thomas, 186. 

Owen, John, 203. 

Owl and Nightingale, the, 

.34. 
Oxford, Earl of, Edward 

Vere, 85. 



Paley, William, 343. 

Park, Mungo, 349. 

Parnell, Thomas, 285. 

Pearson, John, 256. 

Pecock, Bishop, 70. 

Peele, George, 124. 

Penn, William, 185. 

Pepys, Samuel, 229. 

Percy, Bishop, 68, 350, 375. 

Peter of Blois, 29, 30. 

Philippa de Roet, wife of 
Chaucer, 37. 

Philips, Ambrose, 288 ; 
John, 247; Mrs. Kathe- 
rine, 176. 

Philosophy, Scholastic, 28. 

Picts, 13. 

Pindar, Peter, 370. 

Pinkerton, Jolin, 348. 

Piozzi, Mrs., 373. 

Plegmund, 28. 

Poetry, ULicaronic, 31. 

Pollok, Robert, 433. 

Pomfret, John, 248. 

Pope, Alexander, 205-272. 

Porson, Richard, .347. 

Porter, Anna Maria, 458; 
Jane, 45S. 

Potter, Dr., 347. 

Praed, Winthrop Mack- 
worth, 433, 

Price, Dr. Richard, ,346. 

Prideaux, Humphrey, .345. 

Priestley, Dr. Joseph, .340. 

Printino-, its Importation 
into England, 59. 

Prior, Matthew, 282. 

Psalter, tlie Surtees, 33. 

Purchas, Samuel, 90. 

Purvey, 58. 

Puttenham, Webster, 107. 



Q. 

Quarles, Francis, 167. 
Quarterly Keview, 408. 



K. 

Eadcliffe, Ann, 437. 
Raleigh, Sir Walter, 89. 
Kalph or Ranulph iligden, 

30, 55. 
llamsay, Allan, 287. 
Randolph, Thomas, 166. 
Rauulf" de Glauvil, 30. 
Ray, Jolm, 201. 
Reeve, Clara, 437. 
Reformation, tlie, 59; its 

couuectioa with the im- 



provement of literature, 
62. 

Reid, Dr. Thomas, .346. 

Renaissance literature, its 
influence on Chaucer's 
writings, 39 ; its influence 
in England, 53. 

RevieAvs, Edinburgh and 
Quarterly, 468, 409. 

Ricardo, David, 473. 

Richard Cceur-de-Lion, 31. 

Richard of Hampole. See 
Rolle, Richard, 

Richardson, Samuel, .309. 

Robert de Barron, 32 ; of 
Brunne. See Mannyug. 
Of Gloucester, 33. 

Robertson, William, .328. 

Robin Hood ballads, 69. 

Rochester, Earl of, 247. 

Roger de Hovedea, 30; de 
V/endover, 30. 

Rogers, Samuel, 432. 

Rolle, Richard, 36, 53. 

Romance languages, 21 ;»po- 
ets, 23, 

Romances, 32, 33 ; their in- 
troduction into England 
from France, 22 j metri- 
cal, 33. 

Roman invasion, 12; wall, 
12. 

Roscoe, William, 347. 

Roscommon, Earl of, 247. 

Roee, William Stewart, 433. 

Rowe, Nicholas, 244. 

Rowland, Samuel, 86. 

Rowley, William, Ifrl. 

Russell, Lady Rachel, 206: 
Dr. William, 348, 

Rutherford, Samuel, 264. 



S. 

Sackville, Thomas, 72, 84, 
114, 

Sanderson, Robert, 186. 

Sandys, George, 107. 

Satires, 31,33, 

Savage, Richard, 288. 

Savile, Geo, See Halifax. 

Saxon element in language, 
17, 18; family names, 'Mt, 
invasion, 13-15. , 

Saxons, their condition un- 
der Norman rule, 19. 

Schoolmen, the English. 29. 

Scots, 13. 

Scott, Michael, 457 ; Sir 
Alexander, 87; Sir Wal- 
ter, 375-395. 

Scottish poetry in fifteenth 
and sixteenth centuries, 
00,01,09,87. 

Scotus, Johannes Duns, 27, 
29. 

Sedley, Sir Charles, 247. 

Selden, John, 80, 186. 

Semi-Saxon, duration of, 25. 

Senior,«N. W., 473, 

Seward, Anna, 373. 

Shadw(-1!, Thomas, 246. 

Sliaitesbury, Lord, 297. 

Shakapeare, Wm., 128-151, 



INDEX TO ENGLISH LITERATURE. 



537 



Sheffield. 5'ee Buckingham. 
Shelley, Mrs., 439; Percy 

Bysshe, 410. 
Shenstone, William, 353. 
Sheridan, Frances, 349 ; 

Richard Brinsley, 371. 
Sherlock, William, 258. 
Shirley, James, 164. 
Sidney, Algernon, 206 ; 

Philip, 73, 78, 79. 
Skolton, John, 61, 64. 
Smart, Christopher, 373. 
Smith, Adam, 342 ; Albert, 

458 ; Horace, 432 ; James, 

4:;2: Mrs. Charlotte, 441, 

442 ; Sydney, 4(58. 
Smollett, Tobias George, 

3! 5. 
Somerville, William, 359. 
Sotheby, William, 433. 
South, Kobert, 257. 
Southerne, Thomas, 244. 
Soutliey, Robert, 427 ; Mrs., 

433. 
Southwell, Robert, 84, 85. 
Speed, John, 89. 
Spelraan, Sir Henry, 107. 
Spenser, Edmund, 73-78. 
Sprat, Thomas, 257. 
Stanley, Thomas, 176. 
Staunton, Sir George, .349. 
Steele, Sir Richard, 291. 
Steevens, George, 349. 
Sterne, Laurence, 319. 
Stewart, Dugald, 347. 
Still, John, 115. 
Stillingfleet, Edward, 257. 
Stirling, Earl of, 87. 
St. John, Henry. See Bo- 

liugbroke. 
St. Maur, Benoit de, 31. 
Storer, Thomas, 85. 
Stow, John, 88. 
Strype, John, 304. 
Stuart, Dr. Gilbert, .348. 
Suckling, Sir John, 1C9. 
Surrey, Earl of, 66, 67. 
Swift, Jonathan, 272-281. 
Sydenham, Tliomas, 259. 
Sylvester, Joshua, 85. 



T. 

Taillefer, 31. 

Tahourd, Thomas Noon, 

433. 
Taylor, dramatist, 164 ; 

Jeremy,181 ; William,433. 
Temple, Sir William, 296. 
Teutonic race, parentage of 



English nation traced to, 

15. 
Thackeray, William Make- 
peace, 444. 
Theodore of Tarsus, 26. 
Thirlwall, Bishop, 460. 
Thomas Lermont, 55: of 

Kent, 32, 
Thomson, James, 351. 
Thornton, Bonnell, 336. 
Thorold, 32. 
Thrale, Mrs., 373. 
Tickell, Thomas, 285. 
Tighe, Mrs., 434. 
Tillotson, Archbishop, 256. 
Tindal, Dr. Matthew, 346 ; 

Nicholas, 316. 
Tottel's Miscellany, 67, 70. 
Tourneur, 164. 
Traveller's Song, the, 26. 
Travers, AV'alter, 91. 
Trelawny, Mr., 456. 
Trollope, Mrs., 453. 
Troubadours, 22. 
Trouveres, 22, 31. 
Tucker, Abraham, 346. 
Turbervile, George, 72. 
Turner, Sharon, 475. 
Tusscr, Thomas, 70. 
Tyndale, AVilliam, 58, 62. 
Tytler, Alexander Eraser, 

475 ; Patrick Eraser, 475 \ 

William, 347. 



Udall, Nicholas, 115. 
Universities, foundation of 

the Eng^lish, 29. 
Ussher, James, 186. 



V. 

Vanbrugh, Sir John, 235. 
Vaughan, Henry, 176. 
Vaux, Lord Thomas, 70,85. 
Vere, Edward, Earl of Ox- 
ford, 85. 
Verse, Leonine, 31. 
Vital is, Ordericus, 30. 



W. 

Wace, 31, 32. 
Wakefield, Gilbert, .348. 
Waller, Edmund, 171. 
Walpole, Horace, 437. 
Walsh, WUliam, 231. 



Walsingham, 30. 
Walton, Izaak, 227. 
Warburton, Bishop, 345. 
Ward, R. Plumer, 451. 
Warner, William, 85 ; Dr.. 

348. 
Warton,Joseph,357 ; Thom. 

as, 357. 
Watson, Dr. Richard, .345; 

Robert, 348 ; Thomas, 85. 
Watts, Dr. Isaac, 288. 
Webster, John, 163. 
Werfred, Bishop, 28. 
Wesley, John, .346. 
West, Gilbert, 374. 
Whately, Archbishop, 466. 
Whetstone, George, 115. 
Whiston, William, .345. 
Whitaker, John, .348. 
White, Gilbert, 344 j Henry 

Kirke, 372. 
Whitehead, William, 374. 
Whitclocke, Bui strode, 2C4. 
Whitefield, George, 346. 
Wiclilfe, 36, .39, 53, 57. 
Will)erforce, William, 474. 
Wilfred, 27. 

Wilkius, Dr. John, 250. 
William of Malmesbury, 

30 ; of Occam, 29, 53 ; of 

Poitiers, 30: Rishangcr, 

30. 
Williams, Sir Charles Han- 
bury, 372. 
Willoughby, Francis, 259. 
Wilson, Professor Jolm, 

450, 457, 469 ; Thomas, 63, 
Winchelsea, Countess of, 

288. 
Witan, the, 28. 
Witanagemote, 21. 
Wither, George, 167. 
Wolcot, John, 370. 
Wolfe, Rev. Charles, 432. 
Wolstan, 27. 
Wood, Anthony, 254. 
Wordsworth, Wm., 420-424. 
Wotton, Sir Henry, 86 ; 

William, ,302. 
Wrangham, Francis, 432. 
Wulfstan, 28. 
Wyatt, Sir Thomas, 61, 66» 

67. 
Wycherley, William, 233. 
Wynkyn de Worde, 55. 
Wyutoun, Andrew, 55. 



Young, Edward, 285. 



IN^DEX 



TO SKETCH OF AJMERICAN LITERATURE, 



Abbott, 480. 
Aflams, 4cS4. 
Adams, Hannah, 484. 
Adams, John, 486. 
Adams, John Q., 487, 504. 
Adams, Samuel, 48G. 
Aken, My!., 531. 
Alden, 490. 
Aldrich, 523. 
Alexander, 480. 
Alger, W. K., 532. 
Allston, W., 504, 510. 
Alsop, 512. 
Ames, Fisher,-487. 
Anthon, Professor, 504. 
Audubon, 504. 
Austin, 490. 



B. 

Bacon, 480. 
Bail.>y, Mrs., 524. 
Baird, 480. 

];a5R'rolt,G., 478,491,531. 
]<arker, 523. 
J5arnes, 480. 
Barnes, Sirs., 524. 
Barton, 400. 
Bayard, Miss, 524. 
Baylies, 400. 
Bedell, 480. 
Beceher, .Miss, 484. 
Boeeher, H. W., 480. 
Belknap, 400. 
Bellamy, 480. 
r.enjamin, 523. 
Benton, 487. 
Bethune, 487. 
Biddle, 490. 
Bigclow, 504. 
Biimey, Horace, 487. 
Bird, Dr. R., 510. 
Birney, 487. 
Boq-art, Miss, 524. 
Bokcr, G. 11., 520. 



Bolton, Mrs., 524. 
Bowditch, Dr., 501. 
Bowen, F., 501. 
Bradford, 490. 
Bradford, Gov., 512. 
Bradstreet, Mrs., 512. 
Brainard, 523. 
Breckenridge, 504. 
Bright, 523. 
Brooks, C.T., 503, 531. 
Brooks, J. G., 523. 
Brooks, Mrs., 523. 
Brooks, Mary E., Mrs., 524. 
Brown, C. Brockden, 478, 

505. 
Brownson. 480. 
Bryant, J. H.,523. 
Bryant, W. C, 478, 524. 
Buckingham, 490. 
Buckminster, 480. 
Buell, Judge, 504. 
Bullions, P., 504, 
Burgess, 487. 
Burleigh, 523. 
Bush, 480. 
Bushnell, 480. 
Butler, W. A., 521. 
Byles, Dr., 512. 



Caldwell, Prof., 504. 
Calhoun, 48fi. 
Calvert, G. H., 503, 505. 
Campbell, Mrs., 524. 
Camther, 490. 
Canfield, Mrs., 524. 
Carey, Alice, 484. 
Carey, H. C, 504. 
Gary, A. and P., 524. 
Carter, 504. 
Case, 3Irs.j 524. 
Catlin, 504. 
Chandler, Mrs., 524. 
Channing, Wm. Ellery,4S0. 
Channing, W. H., 503. 
Chauncey. 479. 



Cheever, N. E.,480,490. 

Child, Lydia M., 484. 

Choate, 4<s7. . 

Clark, Miss Sara, 523. 

Clarke, 480. 

Clarke, J. F., 523. 

Clarke, W. G., 503, 523. 

Clason, 523. 

Clay, 480. 

Cleveland, 505. 

Cliffton, W., 512. 

Coggeshall, 505. 

Colden, 490. 

Coles, Miss, 484. 

Colman, H., 504. 

Colton, 504. 

Conrad, 523. 

Cooke, 521. 

Cooper, 479. 

Cooper, Dr., 504. 

Cooper, J. F., 478, 495, 603. 

Cox, Cleveland, 523. 

Coxe, 480. 

Cranch, 523. 

Cro swell, 480. 

Croswell, 523. 

Curtis, George W., 505. 

Cushing, 505. 

Cutler, 523. 



D. 

Dana, R. H., 501, 504, 514. 
Davidsons, 523. 
Davies, 480. 
Davis, 490. 
Dawes, 523. 
Dawson, Mrs., 524.. 
Day, Miss, 524. 
Dehon, 480. 
Delano, 505. 
Dennie, 497. 
Dewey, 480. 503. 
Dickinson, 480. 
Dinnics, Mrs., 524. 
Doane, 523. 
Dodd, Mrs., 524. 



) 



(538) 



INDEX TO SKETCH OF A3JERICAN LITERATURE. 639 



Downing-, A. J., 504. 
Drake, 4y0, 517. 
Dunlap, 400. 
Duyokinck, 502. 
Dwight, J. S., 4~9, 503, 504. 



E. 

Eames, Mrs., 524. 
Eastburn, 523. 
Edwards, 479. 
Eliot, Samuel, 493. 
Ellery, 523. 
Ellett. Mrs., 484, 490. 
Elliott, 479. 
Embury, Mrs., 484. 
Emerson, 478, 503, 531. 
Esling, Mrs., 524. 
Everett, A. H., 487, 501, 504. 
Everett, Edward, 487, 531. 



Fairfield, 523. 
I'arrar, Mrs., 484. 
Fay, 510. 
Fay, T. S., 504. 
Fields, 523. 
Fisk, 505. 
Flint, 490. 

Flint, Timothy, 510. 
FoUen, Mrs., 524. 
Forrester, Fanny, 484. 
Fox, Georg-e, 480. 
Francis, Dr., 487, 532. 
Franklin, 478, 486. 
Fremont, 505. 
Freneau, P., 486, 511. 
Frigbie, Prof., 504, 521. 
Frothingham, 480, 490. 
Fuller, S. M., 603. 
'Fuller, Miss., 524, 
Furness, 480. 



G. 

Gallagher, 525. 
Gallatin, A., 504» 
Gayerre, 490. 
Gibbs, 490. 
Gillespie, 505. 
Gilman, Mrs., 484. 
Godfrey, T., 512. 
Godwin, 478. 
Goodrich, 523, 5.32. 
Gould, Miss, 52.3. 
Gray, 31 rs., 524. 
Green, 490. 
Green, Mrs., 524, 
Greene, A. G,, 521. 
Greenwood, 480. 
Greenwood, Grace, 484. 
Gregg', 505. 
Griffin, 523. 



Hale, 480. 

Hale, S. .J., Mrs., 48*. 

Hall, James, 510. 



Hall, Mrs., 484 
Halleck, Fitz-Greene, 515. 
Hamilton, Alex,, 484, 486. 
Hamilton, Gail, 484. 
Hammond, 490. 
Hart, J. S., 501. 
Hawks, Dr., 4S0. 
Hawthorne, N., 505, 508. 
Headley, 505. 
Hedge, 480, 503. 
Henry, Patrick. 484. 
Henry, Prof., 504. 
Hewitt, Mrs., 523. 
Higginson, 531, 
Hildreth, 493. 
Hill, 523. 
Hillard, 487. 
Hillhouse, 487. 
Hirst, 523. 
Hitchcock, S., 531. 
Hoffman, 478, 502, 505, 519. 
Holmes, 490. 
Holmes, O. W., 478, 520. 
Honeywood, 512. 
Hooker, 480. 
Hooper, Lucy, 524. 
Hopkins, 479, 480. 
Hopkinson, Judge, 523. 
Hosmer, 52.3. 
Howe, Julia W., 484. 
Howell, 531. 
Hoyt, 523. 

Hudson, H. N., 480, 501. 
Humphreys, 512. 
Huntington, 523. 
Hutchinson, Anne, 480. 



I. 



Irving, J. T., 490. 
Irving, M. P., 490. 
Irving, W., 478, 498 



Jackson, 523. 
Jacobs, Miss, 524. 
James, Henry, 502, 531. 
James, Miss, 524. 
Jarvis, Dr., 480. 
Jarvis, J. J., 531. 
Jay, 484, 486. 
Jefferson, 486, 490. 
Jewett, 505. 
Johnson, 479. 
Jones, W. A., 602. 
Judd, 510. 
Judson, 624. 



Kendall, 505. 
Kennedy, J. P., 490, 510. 
Kent, 487, 504. 
Key, F. S., 52.3. 
Kimball, 504. 
Kidder, 505. 
King, 505. 
Kinney, Mrs., 524. 
Kip, 490, 505. 
Kirkland, Mrs., 484. 



Knapp, 490. 
Knox, 480. 



L. 

Lanman, 505. 

Lascom, Mrs., 524. 

Lawrence, 523. 

Lee, Miss E., 524. 

Lee, Miss M. E., 524. 

Lee, Mrs., 484, 490. 

Legare, Hugh S., 487. 

Leggett, 486, 523. 

Leslie, Miss, 484. 

Lewis and Clark, 504. 

Lewis, Mrs., 524. 

Little, Mrs., 524. 

Livingston, 486. 

Long, 505. 

Longfellow, 503, 505, 519, 

531. 
Lord, 523. 
Lossing', B. J., 493. 
Loud, Mrs., 524. 
Lowell, J. R,, 503, 620, 
Lowell. Mrs., 524. 
Lowell, R., 501. 
Lowell, R. S., 532. 
Lyman, 505. 
Lynch, 505. 
Lynch, Miss, 523. 

M. 

Macey, 490. x 

Mackenzie, 490, 505. 

Madison, 486. 

Mann, Horace, 532. 

Marmette, 490. 

Marsh, G. P., 532. 

Marshall, 490. 

Mather, Increase and Cot- 
ton, 479, 512. 

Matthews, 523. 

Mathews, Cornelius, 503. 

May, Carolina, 524. 

May, Edith, 524. 

Mayer, 490. 

Mayhew, 479. 

Mayo, Mrs., 510, 524. 

M'Connell, 510. 

M'Donald, Mrs,, 524. 

Mcintosh, Miss, 484. 

Meek, 523. 

Mellen, 523. 

Melville, 505. 

Middleton, 504. 

Miller, 523. 

Miner, 490. 

Minot, 490. 

Mitchell, Donald, G., 504, 
531. 

Mitchell, Dr., 503. 

Moore, C. C, 523, 531. 

Morris, G. P., 523. 

Morris, Gouverneur, 484. 

Morton, 490. 

Motley, 532. 

Moultrie, 490. 

Mowatt, Mrs., 524. 

Mumford, W., 512. 

Murray, 480. 



10 INDEX TO SKETCH OF AMERICAN LITERATURK 



K-. - 

Noal, John, 510. 
Koal, J. C, 503. 
Ncal, Mrs., 484, 524. 
Newell, 41)0. 
Newman, 478. 
Kichols, Mrs., 503, 524 
Noble, 523. 
Norman, 505. 
Norton, A., 501, 521. 
Nourse, J. D., 504. 



O'Callahan, 490. 
Oliver, Mrs., 524. 
Osijood, Mrs., 523. 
Osf,'-ood, S., 480, 490. 
Otis, 484. 



P. 

Paine, E. T.,512. 
Paine, S..48(5. 
Palfrey, J. G., 504, 532. 
I'a,lmcr, 521. 
Parker, Theo., 531. 
Parkman, 490, 505. 
Parsons, Dr., 503, 521. 
I'arton, 490, 532. 
Paulding, 510. 
Payson, 4S0. 
Peabody, 480. 
Percival, J. G., 515. 
Phillips, Miss, 524. 
Pickering-, 504. 
Pickett, 490. 
Pierpont, J., 513. 
Pierson, Mrs., 524. 
Pike, A., 523. 
Pinckney, 484, 521. 
Pindar, Miss S., 624. 
Pinkney, 520. 
Pise, 531. 
Poe, E. A., 510. 
Potter, 480. 
Prentiss, 487. 
Prescott, Miss, 484. 
Prescott, W. H., 494. 
Preston, 487. 
Proud, 490. 



Q. 



Quincy, 486. 

K. 

Raguet, 504. 
Palph, 512. 
Kamsay, David, 491, 
Kand, Ed. S., 532. 
Randolph, 487. 
Kawle, 486. 
Raymond, 504. 
Read, 523. 
Reed, 501. 
Ripley, G., 503. 
Kobbins, Eliza, 484. 



Robinson, 480, .505, 531. 
Rockwell, 523. 
Kuschenberger, 505. 
Rush, Dr., 504. 
Rutledge,-484. 



s. 

Sabine, 490. 
Sands, R. C, 504. 
Sanford, 523. 
Sargent, Epes, 523. 
Sawyer, Mrs., 524. 
Saxe, 523, 531. 
Schoolcraft, 504. 
Sedgwick, Cath. M.,484. 
Sewell, 490. 
Scott, Mrs., 524. 
Shaler, 505. 
Shelton, 480. 
Sherburne, 490. 
Sigourney, Lydia H., 484. 
Silliman, 505. 

Simms,W.Gilmore, 490,510. 
Smith, 4?>0. 

Smith, Mrs. Emeline, 524. 
Smith, Mrs. E. Oakes, 484. 
Smith, Seba, 523. 
Smith, Mrs. T. P., 524. 
Snelling, 523. 
Sparks, 490. 
Spencer, 480, 505. 
Sprague, 487, 490. 
Sprague, Charles, 514. 
Sproat, Mrs., 524. 
Squier, 504. 
Stephens, 490. 
Stephens, 504. 
Stetson, 480. 
Stiles, 479. 
Stith, 490. 
Stowe, Mrs., 484. 
Stuart, 480. 
Story, 487, 531. 
Street, Alfred B., 522, 531. 
Steadman, 523. 
Stephens, 501. 
Stephens, Mrs., 524. 
St. John, Mrs., 624. 
Stoddard, 523. 
Stone, 490. 
Sullivan, 490. 
Sullivan, Wm., 480. 
Sumner, 487. 



T. 

Taggart, Miss, 524. 
Tappan, 480. 
Taylor, 505. 

Taylor, B., 505, 523, 531. 
Thacher, 523. 
Thatcher, 490. 
Thomas, 490, 510. 
Thompson, 490. 
Thoreau, 532. 
Thorpe, 503. 
Thurston, Mrs., 524. 
Ticknor, G., 502. 
Todd, 480. 
Townseud, 505. 



Trumbull, 490, 512, 
Tucker, 490, 504. 
Tudor, 4'.)0. 
Tyng, 480. 



IT. 

Upham, 490, 633. 



V. 

Verplanck, 487. 
Vesy, 523. 



Wakefield, Mrs., 524. 
"Walker, James, 502. 
Wallace, 523. 

Wallis, 505. 1 

Walsh, R., 504. S 

Walter, 523. ; 

Ward, 523. 

Ward, Mrs., 524. J 

Ware, Henry, 521. 
Ware, Mrs., 524. 
Ware, W., 510. 
Ware, William, 510. 
Warren, 484. 
Watson, 490. 
Wayland, 487, 502, 504. 
Webber, 505. 

Webster, Daniel, 478, 486. 
Webster, Noah. 48G, 504. 
Welby, Mrs., 523. 
Wells, Mrs., 524. 
Wetherell, Miss, 484. 
Wheaton, 490, 495. 
Whipple, 487. < 

Whipple, E. P., 501. \ 

White, Bishop, 480, 490. \ 
Whitefield, 480. \ 

Whitman, 480. 
Whitman, Mrs., 523. 
Whittier, John G., 490, 522. 
Wilcox, Carlos, 523. 
Wilde, R. H., 501. 
Wilkes. 505. 
Willard, Mrs., 484. 
Williams, 480. 
Williams, 490. 
Williams, Roger, 480, 512. 
Willis, N. P., 504, 519. 
Wilson, 504. 
Winslow, 524. 
Winthrop, 487, 490. 
Winthrop, Theo., 532. 
Wirt, Wm., 487, 490, 504. 
Wise, 505. 
Witherspoon, 479. 
Woodman, Miss, 524. 
Woods, 480. 
Woodworth, 521. 
Worthington, Mrs., 524. 
Wynne, 490. 



Y. 



Young, 490. 



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